


Beautiful Ghosts

by FromTheBoundlessSea



Series: The Celiaverse [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Adultery, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arranged Marriage, Childbirth, Depression, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kid Fic, Marriage of Convenience, Miscommunication, Pregnancy, serial cheating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 56
Words: 72,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FromTheBoundlessSea/pseuds/FromTheBoundlessSea
Summary: She was never meant to be queen. Celia was the third daughter of a Riverlord who never wished to step into King’s Landing ever again. But when duty calls she must step forward and hope to help mend the fractured kingdom from the war that took her innocence.Robert has never wanted to be king. Yet, there he stood amongst the cheering crowd with a girl he does not love, the girl he wanted dead and buried under the cold stone of Winterfell. Robert never wanted to be king, but there he stood.
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Robert Baratheon/Lyanna Stark, Robert Baratheon/Original Female Character(s)
Series: The Celiaverse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547251
Comments: 1157
Kudos: 993





	1. Celia I

It felt as though she had never left Riverrun. It had not changed and, instead, had simply grown older. A part of Celia wished to never leave, but at the same time she felt so lonely within the keep that had once been her home. Cat was busy with her son, Robb. Celia’s nephew had the Tully look and was the most adorable baby she had ever seen, although she was biased. She did not wish to think of the other babe she had rocked in her arms only, what seemed, a few months prior. The sweet boy with silver hair and violet eyes. 

Celia tried not to think of her time in King’s Landing. She tried not to think of the people who were now but ghosts left to wander about the stones. All the friends she had made were dead and gone. Many not even dead upon a field of battle, but gone in violence they did not deserve. Arthur was gone, _his quiet humor and simple smile_ , slain by Celia’s new brother’s hand. Ashara was gone, _her vibrant eyes and beautiful laugh_ , her body disappeared amongst the water and rocks of Starfall. Queen Rhaella, _her soothing hand upon Celia’s hair as she cried_ , was dead upon the birthing bed, never able to hold the daughter she had desperately wanted. Princess Rhaenys was gone, _her bubbling laugh and sweet kisses upon Celia’s cheek_ , dragged from under her father’s bed and wrapped in the cloaks of her murderers. Prince Aegon, _his happy murmurs and coos_ , dead like his sister. Princess Elia, _her deep calming voice and her gentle heart_ , defiled as she was held by the man who killed her children.

All of them dead. 

She tried not to think of the ghosts she had left behind. 

She tried not to think of her time amongst those haunted stones. 

She did not wish to dwell upon the hands that had grabbed her and pulled at her skirts until he was stopped by Arthur. She did not wish to think on those things, but they had changed her nonetheless. 

She was not the girl she had been when she left Riverrun the first time. 

“Lady Celia,” Bess, her old nurse, said with a knock to her door. “Your father wishes to speak to you.”

Celia nodded, standing from her seat at the window, smoothing out her skirts before she went to her father’s solar. The servants she passed nodded their heads in acknowledgement and Celia did the same. Familiar faces. She just needed to refamiliarize their faces and she would be fine. The nightmares would leave her soon. 

She knocked on the door of her father’s solar. 

“Come in.”

Her father had changed the most out of her family, Edmure’s growth spurt did not count. Hoster Tully has become grey. His dark hair had grown pale and his blue eyes duller still. He looked so tired as well. How Celia missed the days when she could rest her head on her father’s shoulder as he carried her to bed. 

“You wanted to see me, Father?”

“Sit down, sweetling.” 

She did as she was bade. “Father?”

“I have found a man you are to marry within a months time,” he said. 

“I’m sorry?”

“Marriage. A partner has been decided for you.”

“Father, you speak as though you had little to say in the matter.”

“I did have little to say. It had been decided by Lord Arryn.”

“Lord Arryn? But, I know he is the Hand of the King, he is only my good brother. Why have his words and decisions swayed you so?” Was it some great knight who had distinguished themselves in battle? If it were the Mountain, she would follow Ashara by the waters of Riverrun. 

“My sweet girl,” her father said gently. “You are to marry the new king.”

—

Celia met the new king only once at the ill-fates tourney at Harrenhal. She had met him the same way she had met Ned Stark, briefly and with little consequence. His attention had been elsewhere, his focus upon the lady he was betrothed to, Lady Lyanna. 

Celia, however, had been able to take a cursory glance at him. He had been handsome, last she saw. His dark hair was well kept and he sported the stubble of a growing beard. His eyes had been what caught her attention. While her own eyes were the color of a clear sky, his were the color of the endless sea. He was tall and broad and very much loved by everyone who met and saw him. Plenty of women were jealous of Lady Lyanna and her match to the young Lord of Storm’s End. 

Celia had been but a child then and she felt only a bit curious about the slight flutter in her belly at the sight of him. 

She wondered, now, if he would be a good husband to her. She remembered him being kind to Cat and joking with Ned. He seemed to be a good person. She doubted her father would allow for a match that would make her unhappy. Celia knew the king had been in love with the late Lady Lyanna, but, perhaps, if she were a good wife to him, he would make a good husband for her. 

—

Her father waited for her on the steps of the sept. He wore the Tully colors of red and blue, a belt of white across his hips. He smiled when he saw her. “You look beautiful, sweet girl.”

Celia returned his smile. She felt beautiful. The dress was a Tully blue, covered in white Myrish lace, the bodice laced tight to show off her figure, making her look more like a woman than the child she felt when she took her father’s arm. 

_If he does not appreciate you on sight,_ Cat had told her. _I shall ask Ned if he can take you as his second for I cannot let you go yet, my sweetling._ Her older sister had hugged her tightly and then she had to. 

Her father led her through the long aisle of the sept. She used to pray there. Pray for an escape, pray for those fighting. Light candles for Lord Rickard and Brandon, claiming they were for Targaryen soldiers when asked by Targaryen servants.

Not once had she ever thought she would come back. 

The king stood at the altar of the sept, wearing all black save for the Baratheon cloak upon his shoulders. He wore a crown that looked like stag horns and had rubies he had no doubt taken from Prince Rhaegar’s breastplate. He was as handsome as he had ever been. 

She curtsied to him and he gave her a bow, his gaze distant, but Celia could only imagine it was nerves. This was a celebration before almost the entire realm. Everyone was watching them and only them. At moments she felt as though she couldn’t breathe. 

Her father kissed her cheek and she then took Robert’s offered hand and the king led her to the marriage altar, where the Septon stood between the Mother and the Father, where Celia and Robert would be joined together. 

It was all instinct and, should anyone ask her, she would tell them it passed like a dream. She said her prayers and her vows and sang when she was required to. The candles burned brightly like stars and she could remember Ashara whispering to her of the sort of wedding she wished for and Celia had to lift her chin to keep herself from crying. She would not cry on her own wedding day. 

Her father came behind her and unclasped her Tully cloak, one hand squeezing her shoulder gently. Her maiden’s cloak was gone and, suddenly, Celia felt naked. For a brief moment, she was simply Celia, a girl of no house or name. 

Robert came up behind her, her new bride’s cloak in hand. It was heavy and huge, befitting a queen. It was a golden velvet with a black stag and bordered with blacksatin and rubies that matched the king's crown. Would she tell her daughter of this one day? Or perhaps the daughter she would take in when her eldest son took a bride?

The king swept his cloak of protection over her shoulders and Celia once dreamed of her husband pressing a kiss to her cheek as he fastened the clasp, but Robert did not do so. 

She looked up and found his eyes still distant. There was no fondness in his gaze. It was as though the sea had frozen over and offered no warmth from the sun. 

“With this kiss,” Celia said softly and the septon coughed. Then, more loudly, Celia repeated the words. “With this kiss, I pledge my love, and take you for my lord and husband.”

His gaze did not change, perhaps it grew even darker. “With this kiss, I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife.”

Robert bent this head down and his lips barely brushed against her own before his face retreated. Celia, under the velvet and satin, grew cold. 

The septon raised his staff high so the crystal was hit by the sun just right, allowing the rainbowed light to shine upon them. “Here in the sight of gods and men,” he said. “I do solemnly proclaim King Robert of House Baratheon and Celia is House Tully to be man and wife, one flesh, on heart, one would, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.”

—

There had been a bedding ceremony and Celia had tried not to flinch as the lords ripped her dress from her shoulders. She was to be their queen so there were no boudy japes, but she still felt her stomach squeeze and only felt relief when she was placed inside the king’s room to wait for his arrival. 

Was she to sit on the bed and wait? Was she to stand?

She had no time to decide for giggles came from outside the door and she could hear her husband’s roaring laugh echo amongst the stones of the hall. 

He was pushed in the room, in only his black breeches. Celia froze when the door closed. She could smell the wine on his breath. Then, she tasted it upon his tongue as it invaded her mouth, his lips open to hers as she felt his hot breath through his nose. 

Cat had spoken to Celia about what goes on during the wedding night. Her oldest sister had said it was nice if a man knew what he was doing. Lysa had said it felt like being run through with a sword. Robert knew what he was doing, evident by the bastard daughter he had in the Vale. So, Celia let him lead. 

He pulled her shift over her head and tossed it to the ground, his hands growing at her breast and a shiver went down her spine. His lips left her own and descended upon her neck and a moan left her lips as he backed her onto the bed. She laid back, bare to him, his eyes foggy and still distant as he stood at the edge of the bed, untying the laces of his breeches until he was bare as well. 

She looked away from her husband’s manhood as he crawled atop her. She felt strange. There was a slickness between her legs that she didn’t understand. He was fully atop her then, his lips upon her neck as she felt his hardness against her nether lips. She cried out when he entered her roughly. Lysa had been right, if felt like being run through. He began to pound into her, grunting and panting like a wild animal, his breath hot against her skin, like fire. 

There was something building in her stomach, something she didn’t know. It left like she was being lifted to someplace high and she clung to Robert, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, hoping he would catch her if she fell. 

“Lyanna,” he breathed against her neck as he shuddered and she felt something, his seed, spend inside her. The king’s weight pressed her into the mattress. 

Whatever had been building ceased and, although he remained inside her, Celia felt empty. 

She laid there for a long moment before she pushed her husband off her. She looked at him and found him passed out upon the bed, the stench of wine and mead coming from his person. She pushed him once more so that he was on his stomach. She remembered her uncle once telling her that men so far in their cup should never sleep on their back. She made sure he was settled before leaving the room, picking up her shift as she went.

She could still hear the revelry of the feast in the distant part of the castle and even the cheers and songs of the people down below, but Celia felt none of their happiness.

Tears began to weigh heavy against her lashes until they slid down her cheeks. She wandered the hall until she reached the queen’s chambers. Chambers that belonged to Rhaella, whose husband had borne bastards and had raped her whenever his blood was high from fire. Chambers that should have belonged to Elia, whose husband had abandoned her and her children to die and raped another woman, a woman whose name Celia’s own husband had uttered.

The chambers had been redecorated from their Targaryen colors. They were now gold and black for House Baratheon, with shades of red and blue and silver for House Tully. They were filled with gifts that Celia had unwrapped earlier as she was prepared for the wedding. Gifts her sisters and many of the women who would become her court ladies had helped open, commenting on how the king must treasure her in the gifts he had given. It was only now that she realized that some gifts were a Stark grey and that some gifts were meant for a girl who loved riding horses and swordplay.

None of this was meant for her.

Not these rooms.

Not the seed that dripped down her legs.

Not the man who had laid claim to her body with so little care that the pain was only now starting to sting.

None of this was meant for her.

Celia sat in her bed, a bed which had not been expected to be used so early in a royal marriage, and wept.


	2. Robert I

“Lyanna.”

She was smiling at him. That wild smile that took over her entire face. That smile that caused her grey eyes to brighten like stars and has more joy and happiness than any of the septs had bells. She was speaking to him, but no sound came from her lips. 

She was alive and just as beautiful as ever, his she-wolf who had more bite than any he knew. She was as she had been last he had been allowed to glimpse at her. A Stark grey dress with white trim and hair braided in a northern style, twisting in a way that reminded Robert a little of his mother. Such life. Such vibrant life. 

She motioned for him to follow her and he did. 

“Lyanna.” He stumbled after her, trying to reach for her outstretched hand until she was carried off with the wind. Robert tried to take another step but found himself sinking into the wet ground of the Trident. Rubies were looking at his feet, making him sink quicker. He looked up and saw a tower of red Dornish stone. 

“Lyanna!”

She was screaming, pain echoing across the land as he tried to get out. 

“Lyanna!”

Robert shot up from his unfamiliar bed, shouting, his head ringing. He looked to his side and saw that the bed was empty besides him. He looked down to find he was as naked as the day he was born. Robert collapsed back on the bed and rubbed his face before looking at the rumbled and messy furs. Drops of red stained the sheets beside him, laughing at the confirmation of his marriage to a woman he did not love.

Gods, he could barely remember it.

He looked about the room and found no evidence of his wife ever being in the room aside from her maiden’s blood upon the sheets. Robert stood and found his trousers on the side of his bed. He could see some dried blood upon his cock but he ignored it as he tugged in the trousers and laced them up. There was no use for a shirt for none would bother a king and his new wife on their wedding night. Even if nothing of note was happening. He looked out the window and saw that the sun had yet to rise. The bed beside him was cold so he doubted she had only just left. The only place she could be then was in her own rooms or her private solar. Considering the time, she must be in her own rooms. 

Robert left his own and walked down the hall until he came to his wife’s door. He didn’t bother to knock and found her solar empty. He sighed and peeled into his wife’s room. She was curled up on the bed, over the covers. Robert went to wake her, to see if she wished to drink some water since that always helped him after he had too much to drink. 

However, before he touched her, he saw the redness of her eyes and the stains upon her cheek. He could see the slight stain of blood upon her shift at the apex of her thighs.

He curled his hand into a fist and did not wake her. Instead, he found a spare blanket and put it over her, leaving his wife to sleep.

—

Robert got dressed properly a little after the sun rose, knowing he was to break his fast with his brothers and his wife’s family, which thankfully included Ned and Jon now. 

It was strange, being dressed in the manners of a king. Jon had told him it was important to look the part of a king for the sake of the people and his own loose grasp on power. There were some people who still sympathized with the Targaryens and two had escaped his grasp, the Prince Viserys and the newborn princess, Daenerys. He had no idea where they were, lost in the wind off the coast of Dragonstone. 

He shook his head. He would find them eventually and then none would battle his claim on the ugly iron chair. 

Robert nodded at his steward and went to his wife’s solar where he and the others would break their fast. He came and found that he was one of the last to arrive and winced internally when he caught Ned’s glare. Robert could predict the sort of tongue lashing he might soon receive. Cat wasn’t even looking at him.

“So,” Lysa said, deciding that she would be the one to break the silence. “You and Eddard are leaving on the morrow?” she asked her older sister. 

“Yes,” Cat replied. “Robb is old enough to travel and we need to head North.”

“Of course,” she said. “Then I suppose I shall be the one to take care of Celia in your place then.”

“I am a married woman now, Lysa,” Robert’s wife spoke gently. “As are you. We need not spend the time taking care of one another.”

“But you know so little of men and those around you.”

“You forget I spent three years in this place,” his wife continued. “Even the ghosts and myself are well acquainted.”

“So, Robert,” Jon said, changing the conversation. “We shall have a meeting before Ned and the other lords leave to return to their keeps so we can go over what is needed to repair everything from the rebellion.”

Robert nodded and began eating. 

“Perhaps—” Jon began. 

“You have been so skittish around men since you came back from your first time here,” Lysa said loudly, interrupting her husband. “I hear the Mad King could be quite the lecherous man.” 

Robert was fairly certain that all air and sound had fled the room. 

“Lysa,” Hoster Tully warned. 

“Tell me, sweet sister, are you truly unfamiliar with men or are you more knowledgeable than you appear.”

Robert looked to his wife and found her lip trembling. He was about to speak, validating her maidenhood prior to their coupling when his wife spoke instead. 

“If you are asking if the Mad King forced me to his bed, I will confirm to you that he did not. Ser Arthur saved me from such a thing happening.” Celia looked her sister in the eyes. “I was very much a maid when my husband took me to his bed. Can the same be said for you?”

“Celia!” Hoster shouted and Celia closed her mouth instantly. 

Robert’s wife stood. “Forgive me, I feel unwell. The last time I was in this room I was tending to Queen Rhaella’s bruises. Excuse me.” She curtsied to Robert before leaving into her own bed chambers. 

The meal was quiet after that. 

—

“What did you do?” Ned asked after the meeting, following Robert back to the King’s solar. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Robert said. 

“Considering I know Jon had the sheets checked to make sure you consummated the marriage, I know very well you did something. Now, what was it? Celia was in near tears when we came to her rooms for the morning meal.”

Robert’s stomach twisted slightly in his stomach. He could still see the girl’s dried tears glisten upon her cheeks, the way she was curled in on herself. She had been a maiden, true, but he knew he had been rough with her, tougher than he should have been, but he knew, in part, it was because of the alcohol he had drank during most of the wedding feast. His blood had been hot and his cock already hard from the touches from the court ladies. She had deserved a gentler wedding night, but it was what he gave her, nonetheless. 

Robert sat at his desk and Ned sat opposite him. He sighed. “I _might_ have said Lyanna’s name when I finished,” he muttered.

“Bastard,” Ned growled. 

“What do you expect, Ned? Just because Lyanna’s gone doesn’t mean I stopped loving her.”

“She’s not just gone, Robert, she’s dead and she’s never coming back.”

“I know that!” he roared, standing. “But that doesn’t mean I stop loving her. I told Jon I didn’t want to get married yet, but he insisted that I do so I have an heir as quickly as possible. _Stabilize my reign._ Why will you all not let me mourn! I wasn’t even allowed to tell her goodbye! You, at least, were able to be with her, comfort her in her final moments. You had closure.” He plopped back into his chair. “I had none.” He closed his eyes. “Now I’m married to a girl I don’t know. I at least knew Lyanna in the capacity I did because of the few letters we exchanged and the things you told me of her. My wife is a stranger to me. I was never even properly introduced to her until the altar in the sept.” Robert buried his face in his hands and shuddered out a sigh. 

“Then get to know her,” Ned said. “She’s a sweet girl. She’s kind and loving, but most importantly _living._ Don’t love a ghost, Robert, you’ll just become one yourself.” The Northman stood. “I need to help Cat prepare for the journey tomorrow. Think about what I said. Please.”

Ned left Robert alone in a solar that felt too big and too small all at the same time. He pulled out a new bottle of wine. 

—

Robert requested that his wife come to his rooms and the steward brought Celia to him. 

She was lovely, he supposed, nearly the opposite of the beauty Lyanna had. His wife’s face was wide with a downturned nose and a neutral expression that seemed rather serious. Lyanna’s face had been long and her lips full and her nose upturned. Celia was pretty. Lyanna had been beautiful. 

She curtsied to him. “How may I please you my king?”

“Am I not your equal?” She was blurred ever so slightly. Ned had said to get to know her. What could he possibly ask a woman he did not know?

“You are the king, to you there is no equal.”

“Tell me, where was it the Mad King touched you?”

His wife grew pale. “My breasts, your grace. He would have gone further had Ser Arthur not intervened.”

He nodded. “And he did not take you?”

“I was a maiden still before last night. You, no doubt, saw the evidence.”

“Aye, I did.”

“Then why ask?”

“There are ways to take a maid without taking her maidenhead.”

His wife pursed her lips. “I would not know them, your grace.”

“What is it you want, my lady?”

“What any girl wants, your grace. An arranged marriage that might garner some happiness.”

“And what would bring you happiness?”

“I do not know, your grace? We are both touched by ghosts, are we not? Are we not both haunted?”

“You think me haunted?”

“I think you lost.” Her eyes were a piercing blue. 

Robert’s stomach twisted painfully. It was too much. “Get on the bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Similar to my Jaime fic, this will be a lot about redeeming Robert so it will get worse before it gets better.  
> Cersei will make her appearance in the next chapter.


	3. Celia II

Celia stood before the girls who would serve under her and be her companions and confidants. All daughters of noblemen seeking to better align themselves with the new Baratheon dynasty. 

There was Janna Tyrell. She knew she must be more cautious around the rose, knowing full well the thorns they had. Her brother and family had fought on the side of the Targaryens. It was smart of them to send the youngest girl, someone who was not fully needed in their family and no doubt hoped to form a connection to Celia on the basis of being the youngest daughter. She was a known gossip. Celia vaguely remembered the woman in court when the mad king was in power. Men seemed willing to say anything as they got distracted by her well-endowed form. She was not to be fully trusted. 

Allyria Dayne was like her sister in appearance, but all the brightness of Ashara was gone and Celia had a very good idea as to why that was. Celia had held the girl privately and allowed her to cry. Her oldest brother had sent her to serve under Celia, but she knew the girl wished to go home soon, not caring for the cesspool that had led to the death of her brother and sister, with Celia’s good brother being the one to kill Arthur. After Celia settled in, she would send Allyria back to Dorne under some excuse and let the girl be free of this place. 

There was, of course, Lysa. She wasn’t truly a court lady  _ under  _ Celia, she was the wife of the king’s Hand and would be treated thusly. However, Celia was the only person Lysa knew at court. She had no doubt her older sister would find herself otherwise occupied elsewhere and of little actual use. 

The last was Cersei Lannister. Celia had met her briefly when Lord Tywin brought her and her brothers to Riverrun to see if a betrothal between Ser Jaime and Lysa would happen. It did not, but of course there was no bad blood between them. The only anger Celia had towards the Lannister family was aimed at Lord Tywin himself. He had set the Mountain upon Princess Elia and the children. For that, she would find no ally in the man. However, Cersei has no control over her father’s actions just as Celia had none on hers. Celia enjoyed Ser Jaime’s presence, the two of them having formed a strange sort of friendship in their time in King’s Landing prior. Surely she and his twin might strike a similar friendship. 

There were a few others, but Celia did not know their names. 

“The maidenvault will always be open to you and the other ladies of court,” she said kindly. “I hope we shall all be good friends and support one another as our fathers, brothers, or husbands help rebuild Westeros in this new era.” The ladies curtsied their reply. “I suppose all that’s left to do is sew and gossip?”

Lady Janna smiled and they all sat and got to work. 

They got to sewing and gossiping, Lysa doing as she did and sharing the most humiliating stories she possibly could about Celia. While there were few and far between, Celia knew most would take such stories with a grain of salt since they were from a rather biased source. 

“It is an honor to see you again, your grace,” Lady Cersei said. “We were but children when last we saw one another.”

Celia smiled. “Yes, we’ve grown quite a bit, have we not?”

“Thank the gods for it,” Lady Cersei replied kindly. “My brother spoke fondly of you when he had been able to write. You were a good friend to him.”

Celia nodded. “He was a good friend to me as well. I was happy when I learned he would not be punished for killing the Mad King. I have no doubt your brother did what he had to do.”

The Lannister woman smiled kindly. 

“I am in need of a kingsguard to be my main guard. I had thought perhaps I would ask my husband if Ser Jaime would be a good fit. Would your brother be happy with such a placement or would he prefer to serve the king?”

“I believe my brother will be happy wherever he is placed, but it might show a sign of good faith that the Lannisters are shown to be trusted enough to protect the queen. It might paint my brother in a more favorable light.”

Celia nodded. “I shall take that into consideration.”

“I do believe we shall be great friends, your grace,” Lady Cersei said. 

Celia smiled. “I believe we just might.”

—

Celia waited for her husband to fall asleep. He wasn’t nearly as drunk as he usually was, but still rather drunk. Celia wondered if he drank to drown his sorrows, if it was because he had no impulse control, or if he  _ needed  _ to be drunk to even contemplate coupling with her. 

That night’s coupling had been more dragged out than usual, with wet kisses and calloused caresses and shallow and deep thrusts that went at strange tempos each time until he spilled. She had, surprisingly, felt a sort of relief during their coupling, whatever tension her husband had built within her being allowed to crumble down into a strange wave of pleasure Celia had never felt before. 

Robert’s breath deepened and Celia slipped from the bed and bent down to pick up her shift and wrapped a dressing gown around herself as she returned to her own rooms. 

She had made her room more her own now and not some relic that should have belonged to another woman. The things meant for Lady Lyanna were placed into a storage where Celia might give them to whatever daughter she might one day have or even send them North should Cat and Ned have a daughter before her. Her room was now, at least, free of the Stark girl’s ghost. She need only take care of the others. 

She had yet to visit the rooms that had once belonged to Princess Elia or Prince Rhaegar. She could not imagine how frightened little Rhaenys must have been. She did not wish to imagine. She pushed the thought of the lovely girl from her mind and settled into her own bed, forcing her mind back to Robert. 

Robert was rather neglectful when it came to their interactions outside the marriage bed and even then he was not the most observant. Celia was under no illusion that her husband loved her. Perhaps giving him a son would make him kinder or would give her some acknowledgement in court. That meant more coupling of course. She sighed and stared up at the blue canopy of her bed. If she gave him a son, would Robert bother to bed her ever again. She closed her eyes. Would he seek warmth elsewhere?

—

Celia looked over the letter she was writing to her father. It felt so informal, too much so for what she normally wrote to her father, even when she was a captive of the Mad King. However, there was nothing positive she could imagine herself saying about her time as queen save for, perhaps, the friendship she was forming with Lady Cersei. 

Celia sighed and let her head rest on the table. She wished there was something for her to do. The past few queens seemed to do very little and it felt strange to have no expectations, save providing and heir, placed on her shoulders. She needed something to do. 

“You girl,” she said to the servant girl waiting for Celia to have something for her to do. “Could you read over this for me and tell me what you think?”

The girl’s cheeks turned bright red. “Forgive me, your grace,” the girl said with a curtsy. “But I cannot read.”

Celia narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Cannot read?”

“No, your grace. I’m from Flea Bottom.”

Celia blinked. Was that an explanation? “How many servants are unable to read?”

“Most of the smallfolk ones, your grace. Only those under Lord Varys’ care or those who come from small noble families can read.”

Celia thought that was unfair. The servants at Riverrun could read. Then, she felt ashamed. She should have known this, considering all the time she spent in King’s Landing prior, but she had barely interacted with anyone Princess Elia had been so isolated from everyone and Celia had been too because of it. 

Then, an idea sparked. 

Celia stood from her seat and went out of her solar, the servant girl following behind her. She tried to think where her husband might be and continued to search until she found him in the training yard. He was sparring against Ser Jaime with a few ladies of court watching with fluttering fans and redding cheeks. It was Ser Jaime who noticed her first. He stepped back and away from Robert and gave a slight bow, alerting Robert to her presence. 

“Do you need me, my lady?”

Celia opened her mouth to speak and realized she should have waited until her husband was actually free to speak instead of engaged in other activities. She should have waited until they were alone. What if her idea was foolish and he laughed at her?

“I was merely wondering if you might take your midday meal with me in my solar,” she said at last. 

Her husband looked at her questioningly until he nodded. “I shall see you then, my lady.”

—

“My queen.”

Celia turned and found Lord Varys standing behind her. She knew very little about the Master of Whispers. Very little. She knew he had supported the Mad King for much longer than anyone rightly should have, but she also knew he later supported Prince Rhaegar and now her husband. 

“May I help you, my lord?” Celia inquired. 

“Merely making my presence known,” the man said. “I have yet to make a formal acquaintance with the new queen.”

“Then think the acquaintance made,” Celia said, looking the man up and down. “I feel as though you have more to say, Lord Varys. I know enough about you to know you are not here to simply introduce yourself, especially as I see there is no one else present in this hall.”

“Quite right, your grace,” the man said. “You are rather observant.”

“It is better to be observant than to be willfully blind to others faults,” Celia said carefully. 

“That it is.”

“So, tell me, Lord Varys, what is it you wish to speak to me about?”

“Am I to have the understanding that you wish to open a school for the children of Flea Bottom?”

She had barely said the idea to herself when she assumed she was in private. She would have to tread more carefully if she wished for anything to remain private. Perhaps she should tell Robert to do so as well when they have their midday meal together. 

“Your assumption is correct.”

Lord Varys smiled. “Very good. I must say, your grace, your idea is quite a noble one.”

“I believe people should be allowed the chance to write down their thoughts and ideas to communicate. Imagine how much knowledge was lost because a creator knew not how to write their methods down. Isn’t that how we lost the knowledge of how to forge Valyrian steel?

“Correct again, your grace. Although, I doubt you wish for only blacksmiths to learn.”

“I want everyone to learn. How can we grow if it is only one group of people allowed ideas?”

“You are a rather forward thinking woman,” the master of whispers said with a tilt of his head. 

“I was groomed under Princess Elia and Lady Ashara Dayne. I find I am as forward thinking as any Dornishman, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What could Cersei be up to?


	4. Robert II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Robert has another drunken night with Celia.

“You want to open a school for the children of Flea Bottom?” Robert asked carefully. 

His wife fiddled with her hands, but nodded. “It wouldn’t just be for the children, your grace. Adults could learn too. Think of the knowledge that might be preserved or shared if more people could read or write.”

“And you say your father had something similar in Riverrun?”

She blushed. “Well, we always made sure our servants and the people of the towns near us were given the opportunity to learn.”

“Was that school your idea as well?”

“My mother’s, your grace,” she answered softly. “My grandfather did something similar for Harrenhal. He had to to get everything he needed done for the great keep.”

Robert sighed. Her plan was amusing if anything. He could see it working for some children, but not all. He doubted that any adults would wish to go to school and take time from their work to do so. 

His wife was a bit naïve in her hopes that it would change things. He found her naïvety rather endearing in a way. She didn’t really know war or hardships like he and the other men who had fought in the rebellion did. She had a blind sense of hope that the future could be brighter. The future couldn’t, they could only keep it from getting worse. 

“I’ll allow you to start up the school, but you’ll need to find the maester who’s willing to run it. I’ll allow you to use money from the crown, but it will be from your allowance.”

His wife’s expression brightened, her lips splitting into a wide smile. She curtsied. “Thank you, your grace. I promise it will be successful.”

He sighed and nodded. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

She thought for a moment, fiddling with her hands again. “I was wondering if we might send Lady Allyria Dayne back to Dorne.”

“Has she done something to offend you?”

“No,” his wife said, shaking her head. “Nothing like that. She… she lost Arthur and Ashara both.”

He didn’t know why it bothered him that she referred to a dead man by his name only without any title, but it did. 

“I think her brother would find it better if she were returned to Dorne. I could have a Dornish court lady come once things have settled. Perhaps Allyria would wish to return at a later date, but for now she wishes to return home.”

“What is your relationship with House Dayne?” Robert asked. 

His wife seemed both surprised and confused, but her cheeks did turn the softest shade of pink. “Ashara was my friend, your grace. Ser Arthur was as well.” She looked down at her fiddling hands. “I simply wish to do right by their sister.”

He felt as though it wasn’t the full answer, but he let it go. “I shall write to Lord Dayne to let him know of his sister’s return. You can go about your business and finish making plans for your school.”

His wife curtsied again. “Thank you, your grace.”

—

She stood amongst the fallen soldiers of the Trident. She wore white, as she might have on the day they were to wed. The dress went down to just above her ankles and the blood of the field soaked into the hem, crawling up her body as she walked aimlessly like a ghost or the Maiden herself come down to mourn her fallen children. Where she stepped flowers and rubies cake from the earth, pooling and sprouting from every step. 

“Lyanna…” Robert reaches for her and she turned to him. He had hoped to find her smiling for him. He had loved her smile. 

Instead, she was pale, pale as the Stranger themself. Her dark eyes were blank as tears streamed down her cheeks, dripping onto the ground like rubies. 

“You couldn’t save me,” she said, her voice a moan upon the wind. “You couldn’t save me.”

“Lyanna!” Robert tried to reach for her, tried to hold her in his arms, but something caught on his leg. 

He turned and saw the decaying body of Rhaegar Targaryen clinging to him, his silver hair dull and lifeless. “Mine,” he wheezed. “She’s mine. Lyanna,” he wailed. “Lyanna.”

Robert tried to pull himself from the dead prince’s grasp. He turned back to Lyanna and tried to hold her. Once he grabbed hold, she turned to ash. 

“No!”

Robert shot up from his bed, still trying to grasp her. His breath came out in heavy pants as he tried to orient himself and make the room stop spinning. He looked to his side, worried that he had awoken his wife with his shouting and moving, but found the space beside him empty and cold. 

—

Robert devoured her. His wife’s soft body was pliant under his fingers as he explored it. Her skin was as fragile as porcelain, but he could feel the iron in her bones underneath. The way she opened her body to him. The way she gasped and moaned with every caress and trembling touch. 

Robert latched onto her breast and he felt her shudder around his fingers. More. He wanted so much more. It was dizzying, the way she felt under the taste of wine upon his lips mixing in with her taste of honey. He felt the world spinning and she was his only anchor. 

“Please,” she whispered. “Please, please, please, please.”

He was drowning, drowning in everything. 

He crawled up her body and readied himself at her entrance.  _ A son _ , he thought. A son who looked like him. A son with dark hair and blue eyes. He could imagine the hair came from  _ her. A daughter _ , he wondered. A daughter wild and free and given everything he would have given  _ her _ . 

“Lyanna,” he groaned as he thrust into her. Her breath left her in a mewl at the force of his entrance. “Lyanna.”

He began to search for his release, searching for absolution. 

He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t find meaning. He was lost upon the waves as his parents had been. Brown hair turned red, red like blood, red like rubies. Brown eyes turned blue, blue like the sky, blue like sapphires. 

He thrust into her thrice more before he spilled groaning her name painfully as he released, sinking into her warmth. He was drowning. Could no one save him?

His wife was trembling beneath him and he rolled off her, letting himself rest on his back. He looked to her and found her crying softly into her hands. 

_ Don’t cry,  _ he thought.  _ Lyanna… don’t cry… _

He reached for her, but darkness overtook him before his fingers could brush against her skin. 

—

When Robert awoke, he could not remember anything that he had said the night before, but knew he felt remorse. 

Celia had cried at whatever he had said.  _ That _ he remembered. 

—

“My queen.”

She looked up from her desk where she was writing plans for the school she wished to open. Her eyes had a slight redness to them that let Robert know that he hadn’t dreamed it. She had cried and it was his own fault. 

His wife stood and curtsied. She was wearing Baratheon yellow with blue trim. It was a dress that looked familiar, but didn’t look at all like the dresses women of the court were wearing. Was it an older fashion? He didn’t know for certain. 

“Did you need something, your grace?” she asked. 

Robert coughed into his fist and brought his other hand from behind his back to reveal his small bouquet of roses. His wife looked at them in surprise before returning her gaze back to him. She stepped from behind her desk and took the roses in hand. They marched her hair. 

“I wish to apologize for coming to our marriage bed drunk,” he said softly. “I am sorry for anything I might have said. I… remember very little when I drink.”

His wife looked to his hands and then set the roses down on her desk. She took his large hands in hers. “Did you pick these yourself?”

“Aye,” he said as she examined his pricked and scratched fingers. 

She smiled at him shyly and pressed her lips to the pads of his fingers. “Thank you, your grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that Robert never actually promised to never do it again.


	5. Celia III

“Your grace?” Celia entered her husband’s solar. It wasn’t filled with much paper or documents. She wondered what it was he did there. Perhaps some paperwork, but she wasn’t certain. 

Robert looked up to her. His eyes were the most vibrant blue. It was like a clear sky in mid-morning. Just as handsome as ever. She was truly lucky to have married such a handsome man. She knew plenty of the women in the keep thought so as well, some even told her so. 

Her husband stood. “Did you need something, my queen?”

“I was wondering if you could name Ser Jaime my personal kingsguard.”

“The Kingslayer?”

Celia didn’t like the moniker and felt it lessened the act that Jaime actually did, saving King’s Landing. Even so, Celia nodded. “He and I were friends when we were both living here under the Mad King,” she said. “I know him the best out of your kingsguard and would feel safest with him.”

“The Kingslayer is a good knight, but don’t you want a more experienced one or even one of your own?”

“I would feel more assured if it was Ser Jaime who was with me,” she continued. “Trust is the most important thing and I trust him with my life and I know he will protect me.” She knew what the Mad King did to Queen Rhaella. She knew what Jaime had thought of that. He would protect her from anything. She trusted him. 

Her husband nodded. “I’ll give him the orders today.”

Celia curtsied. “Thank you, your grace. I’ll leave you to your work.”

—

“You asked to see me, your grace?” Lord Varys came to her. 

“Yes,” she said, turning to him. “I have found, my lord, that, while my intentions are noble, I have no way to implement them because I do not know the people well.” She lifted her chin, hoping she looked authoritative. She still felt like a child at times, a child playing queen. “I have never been to Flea Bottom and I do not know the workman’s schedule.”

“And I do, your grace?”

“You are for the people, are you not? Wouldn’t you know of their typical daily lives?”

“Your faith in my abilities is most commendable, your grace.” The Master of Whispers bowed his head. “What do you need from me?”

“I need a proper map of the city as it is now, not the ghost of what it was when first built,” she said. “I need to know what a typical work day for a child apprentice is and how we might work around it so that they might go to school. I need to find the right maester who may be willing to share his gifts with the needy as well as a septa for the girls so they might learn more as well.”

“Shall I send word to the Citadel and the High Septon?”

“If you would. They know your name better than they know mine. Say you are speaking to them on my behalf and, should they not agree to send anyone, I shall write myself and then my husband if they continue to disagree.”

“Do you not fear the High Septon turning against you, your grace?”

“It is the duty of the Mother to look after the people. I am the queen and mother to my people. It is my duty to look after them. As a mother seeks the betterment of her children, I seek the betterment of my people. Surely the High Septon wishes for more to understand our faith and even accept more people into his fold, as would the Citadel. More people learning means the weight of the world’s problems can be better lifted and they can devote their time to understanding illness and so forth better than before.”

“You claim to need my help, your grace, but you seem to know what you want.”

“We are both for the people, Lord Varys. Let us work together for the people.”

“Of course, my queen.”

—

She sat in Maester Pycelle’s office as she waited for the older man to finish organizing his work. She didn’t mind that he was making her wait. She knew full well that she had come to him unannounced and she was perfectly happy with waiting until he finished what he was doing. 

She wished that Jaime had come with her into the room so she might have someone to talk to. It was nice having Jaime as her guard. For one, she trusted him. For another, he had quite the wit and sense of humor that many probably didn’t appreciate. It took every ounce of will for her to not smirk or giggle whenever Jaime would give her  _ that look  _ whenever a courtier came and simpered hollow pleasantries or useless gossip.

He and his sister were probably the greatest friends Celia had in the Red Keep. 

“I apologize for the wait, your grace,” the maester said, sitting down across from her. “What may I help you with? You said it wasn’t urgent.”

“Oh, not at all,” she said with a smile. “I…” she chewed her lip. “Forgive me if it takes time for me to get used to you. I have only ever really had one maester growing up and I never came here…  _ before _ .”

The man nodded. “It’s quite alright, your grace. I understand well that women often prefer other women to look after them when it comes to their health, but midwives are not proper as of yet when it comes to medicine and they don’t have the proper training the Citadel offers.” He bowed his head. “I will do my best to serve you and hope that you will come to trust me with time.”

Celia nodded. “Maester, I am here to ask how I might know that I am pregnant. I do not think I am, but I know my husband needs an heir to solidify his new dynasty and reign.”

“Morning sickness is the more obvious indication,” he said after a short thought. “It will not always be in the morning, but that is one indication. A sensitivity in the breasts and a better sense of smell, with things being more pungent than usual would also be an indication. Have you had any of these symptoms, my queen?”

“Not as yet.”

The maester nodded. “There are a few old wives remedies that supposedly help with conception.” He turned away and went through his books. “Queen Rhaella was given such a book and it was returned to me after…” he found it and turned to give it to her. “I believe this may help you. I am uncertain if such methods work, but they have been passed down for a reason, your grace.”

“Thank you,” Celia nodded, taking the book and holding it to her chest. “I shan’t bother you any longer. 

“You are no bother, your grace. Come to me if ever you need anything.”

“Thank you.”

—

She could smell the alcohol on his person again as he clambered atop her. Was she so unlikable that he had to get drunk to perform his duties?

“Lyanna…”

She closed her eyes and tried to relax as her husband found pleasure in her body while whispering another woman’s name in her ear. She let the tears fall and tried not to speak or make a sound. Occasionally she found pleasure in what her husband did. There was a spot inside her that made her tremble and cry out as much as he did, but that night would not be one of those few nights. He was so drunk that he did not last long in his rutting before he spilled into her. How could she be so full and so empty at the same time? 

Her husband rolled off her and Celia got up from the bed. And pulled on her shift from the floor. She wiped her eyes and stood there for a moment to collect herself. She felt exhausted and sore, but not from the coupling. She felt raw and lied to. 

Celia left her husband’s chambers. 

“Are you alright, Celia?”

She looked at Jaime and smiled. She liked that he called her by her name. She felt as though someone was by her side because they wished to be. He was not asking anything  _ of  _ her. “I am quite alright, Jaime. I’m just tired.”

“Shall I take you to your rooms?”

“Thank you.”

He escorted her to her chambers and wished her goodnight. Celia closed the door behind her and went to her desk where she had placed the roses Robert had given her. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. He hadn’t promised to never come to their marriage bed drunk again, after all. 

Celia took the bouquet in hand and went to her window. She dropped them from her balcony and watched them fall, allowing a few tears to drop with them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia is making allies!
> 
> You won’t like Robert next chapter.


	6. Robert III

Robert awoke with a pounding headache and joints that felt too sore from too many hours in the training yard and rather abysmal sex. He sat up, rubbing his face as he tried to wake himself up. 

A soft moan by his side brought his mind to full attention. 

Where the other side of his bed should have been empty as it always was, his wife always leaving in the middle of the night when he had passed out completely, there now lay a woman with dark brown hair he knew very well wasn’t his wife. 

The woman sat up, her body bare if any bit of clothing. “Are you alright, your grace?” she asked. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”

Robert was in so much shock that he fell from his bed, his head cracking against the floor. He sat up and curled in on himself, clutching his head and thankful that he felt no blood. “Seven Hells.”

The woman stood from the bed and went to him, putting her hand upon his arm in an overly familiar way. “Are you alright, your grace?”

“Get out!” he shouted. 

“Your grace?”

“I said  _ get out _ !” He shoved her arm away from him and the woman seemed to understand he was serious, scurrying away from him and grabbing her clothes, shoving them on. Seven Hells she was a maid. Robert went to the door after he left and glared at the guard outside who was absolutely refusing to look at him. “Send me Lord Varys.”

The man nodded and rushed off. Robert returned to his bed and grabbed the furs and covers and ripped them from the mattress and put them where the servants might take them away. He could still smell the unnamed woman upon them. Daisies and a spice that Robert didn’t care to remember. He pulled on trousers and forewent his shirt. He sat on his chair and leaned back, hissing in pain as it shot up his back. He went to the mirror and turned to see the woman had left her mark upon his back, claw marks where her nails had dug into his flesh. 

Robert swore again and sat back in his chair, leaning forward upon his elbows, which rested against his knees. What had he done? Guilt churned in his stomach as he tried to remember what had happened the night before, but he honestly couldn’t remember. He just remembered getting drunk and that was it. How in the Seven Hells did that lead to him allowing another woman in his bed?

“You called for me, your grace?”

Robert looked up and saw Lord Varys standing before him. The eunuch's expression was as calm and unyielding as ever, but Robert had no doubt the man knew what had happened and had already created some way of hushing the incident. It did not help that the Master of Whispers obviously prefered Celia to any of the nobles who lived in the Red Keep. 

“You are to send that woman away from the keep,” Robert said. 

“Of course, your grace.”

“Make sure she takes moon tea.” He buried his face in his hands. Had he even pulled out?

“Of course your grace.”

He needed to make it up to Celia. “Send my wife roses. She seems to like that sort of thing.” She had been happy when he had brought her some before after he made a mistake. He could remember the shy smile that played upon her lips when he presented them to her. 

“Your grace—”

“What?” Robert snapped. 

“Never mind,” Lord Varys said. “I’ll do as you asked.” The man bowed and left the room. 

—

Robert tried to be interested in the small council meeting, but he was too distracted. He thought of his wife’s expression when he asked if she liked the flowers he had sent to her. He had expected her to give him a shy smile once more, or even give him a broader smile, but, instead, her face remained a mask and she had curtsied, thanking him for the flowers and the thought of her. He just couldn’t understand it. Why was she not as happy as she had been before?

“Robert.”

He looked up and saw Jon looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “Sorry,” he muttered, feeling like he had at the Eyrie whenever he would skip his lessons with the maester. “Could you repeat the question?”

Jon sighed. “We were asking how we might repair our relationship with Dorne and the Martells.”

“We sent the bodies of Elia and her children to Dorne, shouldn’t that be enough?”

“I very much doubt it,” Ser Barristan Selmy said. “Prince Doran and Oberyn love… loved their sister dearly. Merely giving them her and the children’s bodies would not suffice.” The knight turned to the others in the room. Perhaps we should ask the queen? She was better acquainted with the Martells and the Daynes as well. She was in correspondence with Prince Oberyn for many months after his last visit to the capital during the Mad King’s reign and she had always been rather close to Ser Arthur from my recollection.”

Robert wasn’t certain why that bothered him. Perhaps it was because it felt as though he did not know his wife as well as he had known Lyanna. She was as strange in his bed as the girl from earlier had been 

“You can’t possibly think to ask a woman to sit in on a small council meeting,” Stannis said, his lips curling ever so slightly. 

“Celia Tully,” Lord Baelish began. “Forgive me, Baratheon, has always been a bright girl. I remember she did well in settling disputes between her elder sisters as well as quite a few servants when she was a girl. I have no doubt she would help us form a plan to better our relations with Dorne.”

“Well said,” Jon agreed. 

“Fine,” Robert said. “I believe my wife is busy drafting the pans for her school today. It would be best to ask her during the next council meeting in three days.” He looked to the lords before him. “Is that acceptable?”

“Of course, your grace,” they replied. 

—

Robert was not as drunk as he usually was, but he wished he could be. Jon has ordered the kitchens to not allow Robert too much. Jon even knew what the day was and still did not allow Robert to drink his sorrows away. 

In an hour or two it would be the exact hour he had learned of his parents’ deaths. He wanted to be drunk. He wanted to be blacked out from drink and wake up for the rest of the night to be over. He just wanted it over. 

He needed a release. 

He imagined laying his wife over his desk as he thrust into her. She would be begging him, lying there, taking whatever he gave her. He wanted to find release there in her naive warmth. She knew nothing about pleasing men. She knew nothing of how to use her body to high Ren his arousal, of how to take him in her hand or mouth. Even so, she was a release.

Robert went to his wife’s rooms and was only vaguely surprised to see the Kingslayer standing at the entrance to her rooms. Renly has told him that the Kingslayer and Robert’s wide were close, thick as thieves with their own personal jokes that no one seemed to properly understand, not even Ser Jaime’s sister. 

“Let me pass,” Robert said. “And YouCam go to your quarters. The queen will be fine with just me.”

“Celia isn’t feeling well,” Ser Jaime said, not budging from his place. “I would suggest going back to your own rooms, your grace. She’s in no condition to give you anything tonight.”

Robert narrowed his eyes and the overly familiar way the Kingslayer referred to the queen. “I am the king and that is my wife. Now, get out of the way.”

“I was sworn to protect the queen, your grace. I ask that you leave before you make her worse.” The Lannister’s green eyes were dark and he had his hand on his sword, daring Robert to cross him. 

Robert glared at him, but was in too much of a foul mood to fight it. So, he left. 

—

Robert laid out on his bed, hand around his cock, but nothing helped. 

He just wanted the world to stop spinning for a moment. Wanted to stop drowning. Wanted to lose his head and let his mind wander. He wanted everything to just be still for a moment. He wanted it to all go away. He felt some peace when he was buried in her, buried in anyone. The warmth of her. The warmth that proved he was alive. 

He thought for a moment and wondered if he should send his guard to command Celia to come to his rooms. To have her sprawled out upon the bed and take her with the power of the storm that brewed within him. She would come if he ordered her to. She would come upon his cock as well. 

But she was unwell. He couldn’t force himself upon her in that way. 

With his stomach churning in premeditated guilt, Robert went to his door and opened it, looking at the guard. “Find a willing maid and take the night off.”

“Your grace?”

“Just do it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert doesn’t understand that Celia likes the flowers because HE picked them for her.  
> And y’all are going to hate Robert and Cersei next chapter.


	7. Celia IV

Small whispers were caught in Celia’s ears throughout the week. Small whispers of Robert taking other girls into his bed echoed across the halls much louder than they were spoken, but they rang nonetheless in Celia’s ears. 

Celia did not want to believe it. She did not want to think her husband was unloyal, no woman did. 

Yet, the roses came by the day and Celia found their smell nauseating and their appearance painful. 

Even so, she could not believe her husband was unfaithful to her in body. 

He would still call her to his bed on many occasions, taking her with as much fervor as always. Sometimes she would find blessed release and others she would not, having to bring herself to completion with her fingers. 

He would still whisper  _ her  _ name into Celia’s ears, begging for a ghost, whispering how perfect  _ she  _ was. 

Her husband could barely stand bedding her without a little drink in his belly. Celia doubted he could stomach bedding anyone else. If she was allowed anything of Robert’s it was their marriage bed and his seed. It was the only thing she had over the ghost of Lyanna Stark. All of it was hers and she would take what she could get from her husband. 

Even so, the flowers continued to come and she grew sicker still of them. 

“Have you heard the rumors, Jaime?” she asked her guard as she sat at her desk to finalize the documents for her school. 

“There are many rumors, which are you referring to?”

“The ones about my husband and his many lovers.” She looked up at him. “Do you think they’re true?”

Jamie looked at her for a long moment before he shrugged. “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I’m not Robert’s confidant, nor am I someone many people speak lightly around. Although I have heard some of the rumors you are referring to.” He shook his head. “I have no idea if they’re true and I’d rather not know either.”

Celia nodded and continued with her work, her stomach churning ever so slightly.

—

Cersei was perhaps Celia’s greatest comfort outside of Jaime. The Lannister twins were perhaps her greatest and only friends in the Red Keep and she treasured them greatly. Cersei was also a woman greatly admired by men for her beauty and wit, surely her friend would have the advice she needed. 

“How do I please my husband?” Celia asked her when she and Cersei were by themselves in the garden. Jaime was walking behind them, but Celia spoke quietly enough to keep the topic of her question from him. 

“What do you mean?”

“How do I please him, make him want me more than… well, more?” She looked down. “How do I make him want me and look at  _ me  _ without searching for Lady Lyanna’s ghost? I am not the most knowledgeable of such matters, but surely there are ways to better please him?”

“You know I am unmarried, right?” Cersei asked. 

Celia blushed. “Of course. You are just so much more worldly than I.”

Cersei nodded, accepting the assessment. “There is a trick I  _ heard  _ of. It is something whores use, though.”

Celia chewed on her lip. “Does it please men?”

“I would suppose so,” Cersei shrugged. “If men want it and they feel it improper to ask their wives, I suppose it must please them.”

Celia took a small breath and asked Cersei to tell her.

That night, she went to Robert and did as Cersei had instructed. She took her husband in her mouth as much as she was able. He seemed to enjoy it by the way he groaned and dusted at her hair. Tears had flooded her vision when her husband spent in her mouth. Robert promptly fell asleep afterward and Celia rushed to the chamberpot to vomit, emptying her stomach completely as tears began to stream down her cheeks. 

She felt wretched and filthy and… and like a whore. 

She buried her face in her hands as she began to sob helplessly into them. She cleaned her face and left her husband’s room. 

“Your grace?” Jaime asked her softly. 

She shook her head and returned to her chambers, still crying. She begged for Jaime to call his sister to her and when Cersei entered the room, Celia ran into her arms and broke down into more pathetic sobs, still feeling dirty and ugly and unworthy of all that she had been given and all that had been done to her. 

Cersei stroked her hair gently and told her everything was going to be okay. Celia desperately wanted to believe her. 

—

Celia grew sicker still, her stomach churning and disagreeing with everything, but especially the flowers. She had them sent to the gardens every time they entered her rooms. She thanked her husband for them, but they made her sick, her belly never settling. 

“You need to see the maester,” Jaime said to her at last before she was to settle in the late afternoon. 

“I am fine. Truly.”

“I shall either walk you there or carry you there. Whatever you wish.”

Celia decided to walk there herself with Jaime’s aid. She sat in Maester Pycelle’s office as he ran some tests and took her pulse and even had her urine in a bucket before pouring in some wine. Jaime had respectfully turned his back for the last two. 

“Your grace,” the maester began. “Tell me, when was your last moonblood?”

Jaime made a strangled sound. 

“I beg your pardon?” Celia asked, her cheeks turning red. 

“When was your last moonblood?”

“I…” Celia had to think for a moment. “I believe it was two months ago?”

The maester smiled slightly. “It is my diagnosis, your grace, that you are with child. Perhaps two months along.”

Celia’s eyes widened. “Truly?”

“It would be my best guess.”

Celia touched her belly and smiled. Pregnant. A son or daughter to give Robert. She needed to tell her husband. She needed to tell him. Surely it would make him happy. 

Perhaps it might even make him love her, even just a little bit. 

—

Celia was bursting with endless energy then. Although she still felt nauseous, she now knew why and it made her feel lighter. She could not wait to share the news with Robert. Jaime had yet to say his congratulations, saying her first should come from her husband and father of her babe. 

She was smiling. She was making the Red Keep her home at last and soon it would be filled with the sound of a crying child, maybe joined by others, and then their laughter. 

Celia reaches her husband’s chambers, her mind briefly wondering where the guards were as she reached for his door handle when she heard grunting. She froze. 

The grunting continued and her husband spoke. “That’s it, that’s it.” Celia’s heart began to twist in her chest. No. No. No. 

“Your grace,” a sighing moan came from the door as well. “Oh, your grace. Harder!”

Celia knew that voice. 

“Harder!” Cersei called as Robert roared a release. 

Celia pulled her hand away from the knob as though it had burned her. She turned from the room and fled. Jaime chases after her, calling after her in worry, but she slammed the door before he could reach her. She leaned against it and fell alongside it until she sat down. It was only then that the tears came and she screamed, all happiness she felt thrown upon the stones as Aegon had been. 

Jaime banged on the door, begging for Celia to open it, but she refused. 

She would never open her heart again, much less a door. 

Whatever had been left of the innocent girl that had first come to the Red Keep all those years ago was gone, dead as she should have been with all the others. 

Celia wrapped her arms around her belly, promising her child that she would protect them and that they would be the only ones to have her love, whatever was left of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can go on and rant about how you hate Cersei now.


	8. Robert IV

Robert laid out in his bed, the heels of his palms pressed into his eyes. He had regretted it as soon as he spilled into Cersei. A part of him hated himself for it. The twisting guilt in his stomach was knotting uncomfortably just under his heart. 

More so, probably, because he enjoyed bedding the Lannister woman. She had a better understanding of how to please a man and make a coupling more enjoyable. She didn’t mind voicing her wants in bed and crying out for him when he brought her to a release. He had scratches on his back to prove how much she had enjoyed it. 

His wife was more naive. 

She was nearly silent during their coupling and laid there for the most part unless she was clinging to him. There had been the one time where she had taken him in her mouth, but she hadn’t done it again since. That had been rather enjoyable, but other than that, their coupling felt more like duty, from what little he could remember. He always had to drink before he was going to couple his wife. It felt like a betrayal to Lyanna, the one who should have been his wife. 

Perhaps he might have liked Celia well enough if she were not his wife, but that wasn’t the case. Besides, it didn’t seem like Celia enjoyed bedding him either. 

He was the king, why shouldn’t he find pleasure where he could find it?

Even so, he felt guilty. Cersei wasn’t just some random whore in King’s Landing or a maid or servant. Cersei was a noblewoman, albeit not a maid, she was definitely not a maid when he first bedded her. Cersei was the only daughter of Tywin Lannister and he couldn’t just send her away as he had the others. Gods, Cersei was supposedly one of Celia’s friends. 

Robert put his arms down and stared at the canopy of his bed. He would order more flowers to be delivered to Celia. That would surely ease his conscious and make him feel better. 

—

He broke his fast with his wife in his solar. The cook had prepared a rather good meal for them, with plates of meat and cheese and bread. Celia wore a blue dress, which was odd since she had previously worn Baratheon yellow on most occasions, or even black, to match whatever it was that Robert was wearing. She was also only picking at her food, barely eating anything. 

Was she sick?

“I was wondering if, perhaps, we should send Lady Cersei back to Casterly Rock,” his wife said as she took a bite out of a roll. 

Robert tensed. Did she know? No, she couldn’t possibly, he made sure that his guards were not someone who spent much time around his wife. He also doubted that Cersei would have said anything so quickly into the morning. 

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t want it to seem like we’re favoring the Lannisters,” she said plainly. “Perhaps it would be better to send Lady Cersei back to Casterly Rock, surely Lord Tywin wishes for her to marry some Westerland lord or something.”

“My queen, I feel like Lord Tywin would feel insulted if we were to send his daughter back to her.” The Old Lion would, especially considering Robert had taken the man’s daughter to his bed. Any financial support from the Lannisters would be ripped from them. He might be the best at numbers, but even he knew losing the financial support of the Lannisters would be a blow the crown, a new crown, could hardly take.

“His son is the queen’s most trusted guard,” his wife said. “Shouldn’t that be enough?”

Robert tightened his fist. She couldn’t possibly know. “You quite enjoyed Lady Cersei’s company, have you not? I would feel more at ease if she were to stay by your side.”

His wife froze for a moment before wiping her mouth on a napkin. “Pardon me, your grace, I just recalled I had rather important things to do.” His wife stood and Robert did as well. Celia made for the door and then paused as Ser Jaime opened it for her. She turned back and looked at him. “I have already confirmed it with the maester, I’m with child. I pray the gods allow me to give you an heir, your grace.”

She turned, then, and left the solar, Ser Jaime glaring at him as he closed the door. 

Robert stood there for a moment, frozen. His wife was pregnant? He fell back in his seat and stared at the door. A child, an heir. 

Shouldn’t a woman be more excited about such things? He remembered Alayne feeling happy when she told him about Mya. She had radiated happiness in a way that reminded him of his mother telling his father when she was pregnant with Renly. Weren’t women usually happy to tell their husbands that they were with child, especially when it was their first?

Why wasn’t Celia happy?

—

Robert went out hunting. 

It’s what he usually did to think. It helped clear his mind and let him breathe for a moment outside the busy Red Keep. He’d done the same when he lived in the Eyrie. It was a way to escape Jon’s constant annoyance at him. He had never been good at studying or etiquette like Ned was. He was never Jon’s favorite. It hurt, to be cast aside in such a way. But hunting and fighting, at the very least he was good at that. 

Robert sighed. If Ned were not the last Stark other than the brother that took the Black right after the rebellion, Robert would have insisted on Ned being king. He would have been good at it. 

Now he had a child to think about. Gods, he hadn’t been around a child in ages. 

Jon hadn’t liked it, but Robert had tried to be there for his daughter every day, visiting her and playing with her as much as he could. He didn’t love Alayne, but she had been a good friend and a good confidant after Mya was born. The passion between them had faded quickly like a flickering flame, but even so, she had been a good friend. Ned had always been uncomfortable with Robert’s trips to see Mya. Apparently he had told Lyanna about it. She had thought he would be unfaithful to her, but had Lyanna been his wife, he would have belonged to her and worshiped her alone. However, she was taken from him and now he just felt lost half the time. 

Now, he had a child on the way and he had no idea if he would even make a good father. 

—

“You wanted to see me, your grace?” Celia asked with a slight curtsy. 

“I was wondering if I might bring my bastard daughter, Mya, to the Red Keep. What do you think?”

His wife opened her mouth to answer and then paused. “I’m sorry?”

He had been a rather good father to Mya before he had been forced to go back to Storm’s End and the only person he knew with young children was Ned, but he doubted that his friend would travel all the way from the North so Robert could re-familiarize himself with children. Bringing Mya would be a great help with that. Besides, he had missed his daughter quite a bit. He would practice his parenting skills and perhaps Alayne would come as well. She had always been rather blunt with him, whatever had caused his wife to be so… unhappy… in her pregnancy would surely be sorted out by Alayne. 

“I was asking if it would be alright if I bring my daughter, Mya, to the Red Keep.”

His wife’s cheeks grew flushed and her eyes became glassy. “I shall have to think on it, your grace,” she said softly. “Excuse me.”

She left the room quickly and Robert wondered what on earth had caused her to react in such a way. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He does feel guilty and at the same time he doesn’t because it’s for the wrong reasons.
> 
> This is why they can’t send Cersei away, do you really think Tywin would allow that? And Celia refuses to be happy with Robert about the baby.
> 
> Robert having issues with being a father again. I decided to name Mya’s mother Alayne since she isn’t name in the actual novels.
> 
> And... Robert has a good idea of trying to re-familiarize himself with children, but he’s not explaining that to Celia at all.


	9. Celia V

“You asked to see me, your grace?” Lord Varys asked, bowing in the coy way he tended to. It was always respectful, but Celia knew there was plenty beneath his calm and quiet visage. 

“Please,” she said. “Have tea with me.”

Lord Varys did as he was bid and the servant poured their first cup of tea before Celia sent the girl away with a smile. 

“I feel as though you did not come here to ask me for tea, your grace,” the Master of Whispers said. 

“I am sure you’re well aware of my pregnancy,” Celia said calmly. “Although it is too early to publicly announce such things, I’m sure rumors are already running about the place.”

Lord Varys bowed his head for sipping some of his tea. “Congratulations, your grace. Perhaps by the year’s end, an heir may be produced and the new Baratheon dynasty might be secure.”

“My husband has asked that he might bring his bastard, Mya, from the Vale.” This seemed to surprise the man and she supposed he did not have ears everywhere or else he was rather good at acting. “And have her settled here in the Red Keep.”

“That is quite a strange request to make of your newly pregnant wife,” Lord Varys said gently. The thought that it was rather inconsiderate went unsaid. 

“Even so, I have told my husband that I would think on it.” She set her cup of tea down and folded her hands in her lap. “What do you think I should do?”

“Would it not be wise to discuss such things with—”

“Jaime is too protective of me and I do not trust my sister or Cersei to be thinking in my best interest. I know Lord Arryn does not wish for Mya to be brought here. I want your honest opinion of what you think would be the smartest thing to do.”

Lord Varys stared at her for a moment before nodding. “I believe it is in your best interest to let the girl come to the Red Keep. She would be beneath your children, especially any sons you might produce, and wouldn’t be a threat. If she were a boy, I would be hesitant to encourage such a thing, but a girl is a safer choice.”

“Are there any other reasons?”

“May I be frank, your grace?”

“Please.”

“Before the king was engaged to Lyanna Stark and before he… well… had many women to his bed, he was apparently a doting father upon his Stone bastard. I believe that allowing her to come to the Red Keep and taking on the role of stepmother would better your stances in the king’s eyes and make him more loyal to you.”

Celia frowned, taking his words in. 

“Think on it, your grace,” he said, standing. “And thank you for the tea.”

—

“Come in,” Robert said, and Celia entered. He looked up at her and cocked an eyebrow. “Do you have need of me, my queen?”

“I will allow you to bring Mya Stone to the Red Keep.” He smiled at her and Celia’s stomach twisted. “However, I have one condition.” He nodded, allowing her to continue. “You cannot legitimize her.”

He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “My queen?”

“Mya was born before our marriage, but that will not change how some might use her if she is legitimized.”

“What does when she was born have to do with our marriage?”

It took everything in Celia to not fist at her skirts. “I will not put my child’s future in jeopardy, nor any other children we might have. Mya may be brought to the Red Keep as long as you promise to never legitimize her or any of your other bastards.”

The king merely looked confused. “My queen, I don’t—”

“You do not love me. I know full well you do not love me, nor have you attempted to try. You do not love me and I will not expect you to, all I ask is your respect when it comes to my household and our family. My children will come first. Our family will come first. Family, duty, honor. That is how I was raised. My family, my children, will come first, followed by my duty to you, my husband. My honor as a woman and your wife will always come last. As long as you respect the first two, I shall not require the third of you.”

“My queen—” He stood, but Celia didn’t let him continue. 

“You may write to the Vale and have them send Mya. I shall prepare a room for her.” She turned and left him in his solar, her stomach twisting painfully. 

—

Celia stood in the center of one of the many rooms off the nursery. Mya was still a young child and it would be better if she were closer to her father. It was also in one of the safer wings of the keep. Celia had toys and clothes brought for the girl, guessing at the size and going with something slightly bigger so they might take it in if necessary. 

“My queen?” one of the servants asked. 

“Yes?”

“Where shall we place the girl’s mother?”

Celia froze. She had not even thought of Mya’s mother when she agreed to let the girl come to the Red Keep. Celia remembered her father telling Cat that marriages did not always begin lovingly, but a man would always love the woman who bore him his children. 

Her stomach twisted painfully and she put her hand over her belly. Images of Cersei’s smiling face and the moans that came from her husband’s chambers echoed in her mind. 

“Ask the king,” Celia said softly. 

What if she just agreed for another woman to come and warm her husband’s bed?

—

“You seem to be so happy recently, Lady Cersei,” Lysa said with a sort of smile that Celia recognized from her childhood. It was the sort of smile Lysa would make whenever she was threatening to tell their father a secret Celia or Cat begged her to keep. “Tell me, has a man caught the interest of the Lady Lion who sits before us?”

Cersei laughed and Celia focused more upon her needlework, begging her hands not to tremble. Begging her lip not to quiver. Begging her tears not to fall. 

“I have,” the Lannister woman said. “He’s so  _ generous _ too. I must keep him a secret in fear of what the rest of the keep might think, but I know I need but another month or so and I shall have him for my own.”

Celia pricked her thumb and she didn’t even feel it. She felt so numb as the echoes of Cersei and Lysa’s laughter rattled in her head. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot will happen before Robert really changes, there will be steps forward and steps back. This is one where no steps were properly taken.


	10. Robert V

_ Dear Robert, _

_ While I am happy that you have invited Mya and myself to the Red Keep, I will not be accompanying our daughter in this transition.  _

_ Mya deserves all the opportunities the world can provide for her and she would be better off living as the King’s acknowledged bastard in the Red Keep than your acknowledged bastard in the Vale.  _

_ I understand why you invited us as well. Your wife is pregnant and you are a man back from war and are unsure of how you might act around a child again and wish to remember the type of father you were before the war. While Mya might be a great help to you and will,  _ perhaps,  _ help your wife get used to having a child around, I would cause only issues if I came with our daughter. _

_ What issues, you might ask? This, dear Robert is why I was glad to never be officially saddled with you.  _

_ I am a woman who has borne you a healthy child already, meaning we have had sex before. Most women don’t want to know of their husband’s past conquests, or current ones if some of the rumors are true, and having me there would only sour what little trust you have already built within your relationship.  _

_ Talk to your wife, Robert. I am no lady, but I think every woman wants their husband to talk to them, but most importantly, LISTEN.  _

_ Mya shall be coming to you soon and I ask that you take care of my little girl and allow me to see her a bit after your wife’s baby is born.  _

_ Alayne _

—

Robert sat in on the council meeting. 

He found it boring and knew he had nothing to add, but Jon dragged him to every single one. He didn’t know what else he would be doing but it didn’t feel like this should be it. He understood what it mean to be a lord of a keep and to be responsible for a handful of lords and the Stormlands. But he wasn’t trained to rule over all seven kingdoms. He hadn’t wanted this. He hadn’t asked for this. Anyone would have made a better king than Robert. 

Anyone. 

“The queen’s first school in Flea Bottom has opened,” Lord Varys said. “It was quite a small turnout. But the classes have grown. Since we couldn’t figure out a time for students to specifically come, we have split them off into days where guilds have allowed their apprentices a day off work. It helps build unity and information within the future members of the guilds already. We may need a bigger building soon, the school has become popular enough that a few adults wish to learn as well. We might need to open it at night. I’ve discussed it with the queen and she might open a few rooms for children to sleep in so they aren’t sleeping in the streets. It would declutter them and might cause the crime rate to drop just a bit.”

“Is it really working?” Robert asked. The council looked at him and he realized that this was the first time he’s talked the entire meeting. 

“It appears to be, your grace,” Lord Varys said with a slight dip in his head. 

“At least one of our monarchs appears to take an interest in the people,” Stannis muttered. 

Robert merely glared at him. 

—

“The queen seems to be doing well,” Maester Pycelle said. “She has to right width in her hips for birth so there shouldn’t be any complications. However, she’s still on the younger side. You’re sixteen, isn’t that right, your grace?”

Robert’s wife nodded and he swallowed painfully. She was the same age as Lyanna. Same age Lyanna was when she… Robert shook his head. 

“Will she be alright?”

“She has the body built for birthing, but I would still be careful. Even Princess Elia had a body built for having children, it was still difficult on her. I would simply be careful, your grace.” He sat down at his desk. “It is better to be careful than to lose a child. Although, it isn’t uncommon to lose a first pregnancy, I would still advise you to be careful. The queen shouldn’t go through any strenuous activity for now.”

“I suppose I shall cancel my sword practice,” Celia said lightly. 

Ser Jaime, who was stationed on the other side of the door, snorted. 

Robert held Celia’s hand gently. He could still remember the blood stains on Lyanna’s clothes when Ned had to first bring his sister’s body to King’s Landing before taking her back North. He could still remember the pale baby girl with dark hair that was wrapped against his betrothed’s chest. 

He would be careful with Celia. If someone as strong as Lyanna could be lost in childbirth, someone like Celia would be at more risk. 

—

His lips caressed her neck as she slowly peeled off his outer clothes. Her hands were soft against his back, but he could feel the slight toughness of calluses on her thumb and forefinger of her dominant hand. 

She was sighing, encouraging. Celia’s skin was silky smooth beneath his hands as he rubbed along her thighs, pushing up her shift until it was bunched at her hips. Her hands came from his back as she began to untie the laces of his trousers. He pulled at her shift and she sat up slightly so she could pull it over her head. She laid back down, kissing his shoulder before she returned her attention to his laces. Robert explored his wife’s body and took every inch of her in, grunting as she fumbled with the laces and he couldn’t wait anymore, rutting against her bare center as he still wore his trousers. 

She was gasping underneath him.  _ Please, please, please, please.  _

Then, he froze, feeling the firmness of her belly and the slight swell of it. His baby was in there. Blood and pained screams echoed in his head. 

“Robert?” Celia asked, her voice small. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. He pulled away from her and for her shift, putting it on her carefully. He was so hard it was painful. 

“Rob—”

“You should go.”

Her eyes widened for a moment before her gaze grew dull and she slid off the bed, cradling her belly tenderly. She left, her bare feet padding down the hall until he couldn’t hear her anymore. 

Robert laid back on his bed and buried his face in his hands. 

“Your grace?” his guard asked. 

“Send for Lady Cersei.” He covered his face in his hands and hated himself. He let the Lannister woman fuck him until he fell asleep. Lyanna stood before him, her shift drenched in blood and a child’s cry echoing across the chamber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh* ROBERT.


	11. Celia VI

Celia wondered if there was something wrong with her. 

She knew full well that she appeared unable to please her husband. If she were truly able to, he wouldn’t go to other women, or a father specific woman, if she were properly able to please him. She did what she could to please him in their wedding bed. She let him have her whenever he asked, even when she was tired. She touched him in ways that left her embarrassed. She let him treat her like a whore in some ways and yet he still seemed to be disgusted by her. 

She cradled her belly carefully. She was barely showing, but it was obvious when she was bare that she was with child. She could still feel the way Robert’s roving hands had frozen over the firm skin. He had been rutting between her legs and she felt how much he had wanted her, but he had sent her away regardless. 

Did the baby disgust him?

But he had seen so happy. 

Celia turned and went back to Robert’s rooms, ready to demand an answer, but she stopped when she heard her husband’s grunting and Cersei’s breathy exclamations of pleasure. She stood outside the door for a short moment, wondering what her husband would do if she entered now. 

Would he be ashamed? Would he push himself off Cersei and crawl to her feet and beg forgiveness. Or would he not even notice her. Would Cersei look at her with a triumphant gaze and make her cries of pleasure for all the keep to hear. 

Celia turned away and went to her rooms, holding her belly carefully. 

If Robert was disgusted, than this child would be her own. She prayed for a son who would be king. She prayed for a boy that would become a good man. If she had a girl she didn’t know if she would be able to protect her from the world as it was. If it were a boy, Robert would be happy. If it were a girl…

Celia did not want Robert to disappoint her child if it were a girl. 

—

Celia was noticeably pregnant by the time Mya arrived from the Vale. She had begun to wear dresses that allowed for more leeway in her growing stomach. 

She had lifted her chin proudly at the absolute rage in Cersei’s eyes when she smiled sweetly and congratulated Celia on her pregnancy. Celia had simply smiled and said her husband was always so worried of wearing her out. 

A lie, but one that seemed to make Cersei seethe in anger. 

The rest of her court ladies, besides her sister, began to pay much closer attention to her, telling them things they knew from their own pregnancies or their sister’s or mother’s or good sister’s. Barely any mind was paid towards Cersei and Celia basked in the affection of the women, even if she knew they cared not for her, but her title. 

Celia stood next to her husband, her hand over her belly. While Robert had occasionally taken his marital rights with her, she noticed his distinct lack of interest when it came to her growing belly. However, she took what she could get. Even now, she felt a tightening in her belly and a deep rooted longing to ask her husband to let her rest and to ask him to fill her completely. 

She wondered what Robert would do if she whispered to him that she wanted him to fuck her. Would he even do it? Or would he be too surprised by her request to even know what to do. Part of her wanted whisper to him now, but the carriage from the Vale arrived and she decided that would be a rather bad first impression to anyone. 

At least Mya’s mother was not coming. 

Celia pushed the thought away. It was a horrible thing to be happy that a woman was separated from her child. 

Celia put on a smile as the tiny girl was helped down from the carriage. She looked like Robert. She had dark hair and the bluest eyes Celia had ever seen on a child. 

“Your grace,” the girl said, giving a wobbly curtsy and Celia found herself smiling. She was adorable. 

Celia desperately hoped the girl would like her. 

—

Celia shared a private evening meal with her husband and his daughter. 

The girl was endearing, the way she swung her legs as she sat in a chair much too big for her and the way she seemed to always be moving, as though sitting still was the only thing she was incapable of doing. She was obviously trying to remember her manners, but at the same time, she was a child and often forgot them. Celia missed her own childhood just watching Mya. She missed running about Riverrun with her sisters and Petyr. She missed the way Cat would scold her for making a mess. She missed the way Lysa would reprimand her while brushing off her dusty skirt after she had fallen. She messed Petyr carrying her on his back once she was too tired to walk back to the keep. 

Being with Mya and Robert also made her lonely. She had never been to the Vale and neither person bothered to explain where they were talking about. The cliffs and the secret walkways. The best place to find blueberries and blackberries. A childhood was shared, even if separated by years. 

She was a horrible woman for feeling such things as she watched a father reconnect with his daughter. Yet… 

She felt so lonely. It felt as though her chest was hollow and there was nothing to do but wallow in it. 

—

“Is there something wrong with me?”

Jaime looked at her sadly. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“If I die having this child—”

“Don’t,” Jaime said darkly. 

“If I die… don’t let your sister marry Robert.” She touched her belly carefully. “I don’t trust her with this child, especially if it’s a boy.” She looked up at him and found her friend remaining stoic, although he looked more pained than anything. “Have my child fostered in the North. I trust Ned and Cat to love this child. I don’t know if I can trust Robert to.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Jaime insisted, kneeling before her and taking her hand in his. “You are going to grow old and be surrounded by ten grandchildren.”

Celia huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps. As long as you promise that you’ll always be with me.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t know what I would do without my only friend.”

He squeezed her hand. “I swear it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia was not dying and that was not foreshadow.
> 
> Also, Cersei’s plan isn’t going well because she didn’t plan on Celia getting pregnant so quickly.


	12. Robert VI

He began to distance himself from Cersei. Not because he was displeased with her, but because he hated doing such things with her now that Celia was more noticeably pregnant. His wife was round with child, so much so that many lords came to congratulate him and tell him that they were praying to the gods for a boy so the Baratheon dynasty might be secure. 

He stopped going to Cersei, but he did not stop seeking comfort elsewhere. Robert has begun to go to the Mockingbird and allowed Baelish to introduce him to whatever whore he felt was best. 

“Which would you prefer?” Lord Baelish asked as he presented two girls before the king. 

Both were beautiful. One was tall and willowy with hair like fire and eyes of green. The other was shorter, but just as beautiful with dark hair and grey eyes. 

He eyed the red head, imagining her for a moment under him. But the image of his wife stretched out beneath him came to mind instead. 

“The brunette.”

—

He was so tired of Jon’s chastisement. 

“You’re better than this,” his foster father had said in annoyance. “I did not raise you to be this way, sleeping around when you have a duty to your wife and kingdom to not produce enough bastards to have a dance of stags.”

Mya was his only bastard and he was being careful, so Robert doubted there was anything to worry about. He sighed. Jon knee the kind of man Robert was when he set him on the throne. It wasn’t as though he wanted to be king. Gods, Ned would have been a better choice. Robert  _ was  _ always a disappointment to his foster father in one way or another. 

A knock came to his solar door. 

“Come in.”

Ser Jaime came in and closed the door behind him. “Your grace.”

“Where’s my wife?” Robert asked. 

“Resting. I have Ser Barristan watching over her until I return.” Ser Jaime stood before Robert’s desk proudly, lifting his chin. “I have important matters to speak with you, your grace.”

Robert waved his hand as he continued to work on the blasted paperwork Jon had left for him.

“I know about you and my sister.”

Robert’s quill snapped. He looked up at The Kingslayer and found him glaring. The king gulped. 

“The queen is aware of this as well.”

Robert stood. “How dare—”

“If you are about to imply that I informed her of this, you are mistaken. She overheard you.” Robert’s stomach twisted painfully. “She became aware not even half an hour after she learned of her pregnancy. She  _ heard  _ you, both of you, loud and clear.”

Robert sat down. “Gods.”

“Oh, there’s more,” Ser Jaime did not even attempt to hide his contempt. “The queen is beginning to grow worried that she might not survive the pregnancy.”

Robert stood again, more quickly this time. “Is she—”

“Maester Pycelle says she is perfectly healthy. There is no need for concern on that end, however that doesn’t stop the queen from worrying about what might happen if she dies and her child lives.” The kingslayer’s eyes were dark. “The queen has requested that, should she die, her child be fostered North with her older sister and Lord Stark.”

“Does she not trust me with my own child?” Robert asked, offended. 

“No,” Ser Jaime said plainly. “She does not. Especially when you make a habit of taking company with women like my sister who insist upon flaunting their association with you, even if it isn’t official knowledge yet.”

“What I do is—”

“Your wife is afraid that she will die and leave her child without a parent’s love. Everyone in this keep is well aware that you are not in love with the queen. Everyone is well aware that you still love Lady Lyanna, although those who know both would think that the queen is the superior of the two.”

“It does not mean I would not love and care for my child,” Robert growled. 

“The queen doesn’t think so. You forget that she knew Princess Elia and knows what became of her children. I have no doubt she and everyone else wonders if Lady Lyanna’s child had lived, what would you have done. She doesn’t trust you with her child. Frankly, I don’t either.”

“You doubt your king?”

“Only because he has not given me reason to trust him. I pity the queen for being saddled with you. Good day, your grace.” He paused at the door. “Oh, and pay attention to your wife, some of us actually acknowledge her. Don’t blame anyone but yourself if she seeks comfort from someone else. Isn’t that what Lady Lyanna did?”

—

He made careful work of his wife’s dress. Peeling it off her body as he kissed her neck. 

“Robert,” she whispered as she tugged at his trousers, clawing at the strings. “Robert.”

She was on his bed and he could see the way her body was already flush with want for him, the way she rubbed her legs together, the way her eyes darkened as he let his trousers fall to the floor and discarded his shirt. 

“Do you want me, my queen?” he asked her gently. “Do you want me inside you?”

“Yes,” she whispered softly. “Robert, please.”

He climbed atop her, kissing his way up. Her knee, her thigh. She had her shift still on and her hands protectively over her belly. 

_ Does she not trust me with my own child? _

_ No, she does not.  _

Robert gently pulled her hands away and lifted her shift until her belly was bare. It was round and firm and he could see her skin stretching across the roundedness. He pressed his lips to her there, and he could hear her shudder and sigh. He continued his exploration up until he took her breast into his mouth, licking at her through the fabric. 

“Robert,” she begged. “Please…”

He kissed her lips tenderly as he spread her legs and lifted them around his waist. She was already wet for him when he thrust into her slowly. He set a steady pace, growing faster with every thrust as his wife sighed and gasped beneath him. Her moans rang in his ears as she began to cry out for him, holding onto him as though he were her only anchor. 

“Robert,” she moaned. “Robert! Faster! Oh, gods, faster!”

He obliged, quickening his pace until she was screaming for him, begging for him to fill her up and to  _ not  _ stop. He was certain the whole Jeep could hear her, head the way his wife, their beloved queen, begged for him. 

She came before he did and something inside him snapped as he began to pound into her, riding her through her release as he felt himself coil until. 

“Celia!” He came with a roar as he filled her with his seed. Gods, it felt as though her body was trying to pull him in. 

Robert rolled off her and into his back, careful to not squish her. Both took a moment to catch their breath. He felt his wife shift beside him and straighten herself out. She ran her fingers through her hair until it was like a waterfall of fire cascading down her back. Robert reached out and took a lock of her hair and pressed it to his lips. 

His wife turned to look at him curiously, the dark passion of her eyes gone to a cold blue that he knew to be a mask of some sort. No doubt to protect herself from him. 

“Stay the night here,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked. 

“Because I want you to.”

—

Lyanna was lying upon a bed of dragonglass, her shift bloodied as a child with scales and wings clawed its way out of her belly. She was screaming, pain piercing through his ears as her hair turned red like a river of blood and her eyes as blue as the sea the child’s hair grew black and its eyes blue too. She screamed his name and her own bubbled from his lips 

“Celia,” his hoarse whisper came as he jolted awake.

At first, Robert expected to be alone, instead, he found his wife sleeping soundly beside him. Robert moved so he was closer to her until her back was pressed against his chest. He carefully put his arm around her until his hand was cradling her belly. It was firm and warm and his child grew there. He buried his face into her hair and drifted back to sleep. 


	13. Celia VII

The door of her husband’s room opened and closed and Celia turned to see the king standing before her, but it was not her husband, no. The eyes of violent purple and hair of crumbling silver stood before her. King Aerys. She froze for a moment before dipping into a curtsy. She was no longer in her dress of yellow and black, but of blue and red the color of blood. 

“What are you doing here?” The king snapped at her, his voice as wild as the fire that had killed Lord Rickard. 

“The princess wished for me to get a book she had loaned to the queen, your grace.” She said, her voice much higher and younger than it should have been, and she curtsied again. “I apologize for entering the rooms,” she said. “I shall take my leave immediately.”

Celia made to leave when the king took hold of her arm and forced her to face him. He looked at her like a vulture. His violet eyes traced along her body and Celia felt a chill run up her spine. This was a dream. It was a dream. It was a dream. This was not real. This wasn’t— 

She froze when she felt the king’s hand upon her breast. His thumb rubbed against the peak hidden under the bodice of her dress. She wanted to flinch away from him, but found she could not move. She was like a mouse caught in the gaze of a snake. 

“How old are you?”

“Th–thirteen,” she whimpered. She prayed that if she gave such an age he might stop touching her. It felt wrong. She remembered Cat telling her that men who touched a girl when it was unwanted were bad men and she must stay away from them. But she could not move. She was frozen. He was her king and she could not disobey him. What if the king killed her father and brother just as he killed Lord Rickard and Brandon?

“Your name, girl,” the king said, bringing his face closer to hers. His breath was like flames licking at her face. Was this why the kings of old bowed to the dragons whose breath could singe their hair and clothes, that could burn their skin with the slightest of puffs?

“Celia Tully.” Baratheon. She was a Baratheon now. Not—

The king laughed. It was the same laugh he had given at Lord Rickard’s screams. “Tell me, girl, what is your _duty_ to your king.”

Tears began to blur her vision. She closed her eyes and clenched her thighs together as she felt the king lift her skirt, his cold hand skimming along her thigh. 

“Your grace!” Ser Arthur burst into the room and Celia awoke with a start. 

She was in the king’s room still, but it was decorated with yellow instead of red and antlers instead of scales. 

An arm was wrapped around her and she turned her head to see Robert laying beside her, his eyes closed and his face just above her head. His thumb was rubbing her belly absentmindedly and something about it felt so… calming. Celia breathed a sigh of relief.

Robert had killed Rhaegar and Jaime, who stood guard outside, had killed Aerys. She was safe. Celia closed her eyes and wiggled herself further against her husband’s chest.

She was safe. 

—

Celia awoke once more to sunlight filtering in from the window. She shifted awake and was surprised to find Robert’s side of the bed empty and cold. She pulled the covers up around herself and stood. She went to the door, straightening out her shift. It was not Jaime who stood guard, but the knight that usually followed after her husbands on the rare occasions he had a guard. 

“Where is my husband?” Celia asked. 

“The king insisted you rest for the day, your grace,” the man said. “Now that you have awoken, shall I call for a bath to be readied?”

“Yes, please.” She paused for a moment. “Might you send for Mya Stone. Has she had her bath yet?”

“Not that I’m aware, my queen.”

“Send for her please. I am sure she would enjoy a larger tub than the one meant for a child.”

“As you wish, your grace.”

—

Celia washes Mya as the girl played with the floating toys that had been sent from the Eyrie as well as a few toys Celia had ordered from Lys. The girl giggled as Celia cleaned behind her ears and let the bubble tickle at her chin. Mya was a perceptive girl, knowing not to be too rowdy when around Celia or her belly. She even asked to touch her belly and Celia showed her where she felt the baby flutter although it was probably too soon for anyone other than Celia to feel it. 

The serving girl who helped her, Shae, was most likely a few years younger than Celia. The girl had a Lorathi accent and was short, slim, and very pretty with large dark eyes and black hair. 

“Tell me, Shae,” Celia said as she finished cleaning Mya and the serving girl poured more warm water into the bath. “Do you hail from Lorath, or is that where your parents are from?”

“I was born in Lorath, your grace,” Shae said gently. “My father sold me to a merchant in hopes that I would make something of myself. He also had too many mouths to feed.”

Celia looked at the girl and found a deep sadness in them. “Do you wish to go back to Lorath?”

“No, your grace” she said, shaking her head. 

“Are you good with children?”

“I had five younger siblings,” she answered. “I helped raise them after my mother died, before my aunt came to live with us.”

“What do you do here in the keep?”

“I tend to baths and fires, your grace.”

“Tell me, Shae, how trustworthy are you? And speak truly, did Lord Varys send you here? You are not the maid who usually helps me or Mya.”

The girl’s cheeks colored. “Lord Varys told me to tend to you, your grace.”

She could trust Lord Varys’ judgment and would ask more about the girl later. “I have a job for you, Shae.”

“Yes, my queen?”

“I will need someone I can trust and depend on for when the babe comes, someone I can trust to look after them, as well as Mya to some degree. Would you be willing to be the nanny for this child once it is born? I shall pay you handsomely and you would be given rooms of your own away from the servants quarters.”

The girl stared at her for a moment. “I do not think I am worthy of such a thing, your grace.”

“Perhaps, but we shall see. I would much prefer someone I can trust than someone my husband or any of the ladies of court might suggest.”

Shae bowed her head.

Celia would definitely ask Lord Varys about her. 

—

Celia’s legs stiffened and her toes curled as she fisted at her husband’s hair. She threw her head back and cried out as all the tension flooded from her body and she laid there, boneless upon her husband’s bed. 

He crawled up beside her and rested himself next to her, pulling her to his chest and pressed kisses to her shoulder as he smoothed her hair from his face. 

“Do you…” She let her fingers graze against his trousers and was surprised to find them wet and his cock soft. 

“I already handled it,” he said. “You just need to rest.” His lips found hers and Celia was already light headed from the way he drank from her, but she felt even more so at the taste of herself on his lips and the way he seemed to need more of her. 

“Are you sure?” she whispered, once he pulled back. 

“Today is about you,” he said gently. “Just rest tonight. Perhaps I shall have you in the morning.”

Celia blushed at that. She did not know why, but the thought of Robert claiming her in the light of day… it sent a pleasant thrill up her spine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you read The Pack Survives, you already saw this scene, but this just had a tad bit more of a nightmarish feel to it.
> 
> Robert wanting Celia to relax.
> 
> Yay! Shae is here and she will life along and happy life!
> 
> And Robert “got down” to business 😘
> 
> A LOT is going to happen next chapter


	14. Robert VII

He  _ had  _ taken his wife that mourning in their marriage bed. 

There was something different about that coupling than any of their previous occasions. There was something slow about it, as though they had all the time in the world. They hadn’t, of course, but it felt like it.

It was almost refreshing, seeing her as the light of the sunrise spilled over their yellow sheets, turning them to gold and seeing her hair alight like a river of fire beneath them. He could see the way her body flushed for him and her expressions that came with every thrust or the way she melted beneath him when she was sated. 

It was a different experience and Robert wanted to experience it again. 

Robert flicked his short attention back to Jon as he rambled on about the upcoming crop from the Reach and how it might be distributed throughout the seven kingdoms. He didn’t quite understand why he had to be there for such a thing considering it seemed that Jon already decided what he wished to do. 

Perhaps Jon should have been king? He seemed to be the one to like making major decisions for the real. 

“Your grace!” a girl’s cries came with the bursting of the doors. 

“You can’t come in here!” Ser Barristan shouted. 

One of the guards grabbed the girl by the arm, but she ripped it from the man’s grasp. “It’s the queen, your grace! She’s been attacked!”

—

Robert stormed down the hall towards his wife’s chambers, shouting at guards as he went and ordering for the maester to be fetched. He was moving so quickly that barely anyone was able to keep up with him except for the girl that had brought the news to Robert. 

Images of Celia drenched in her own blood and her skin pale and eyes lifeless came into his mind and his eyes began to burn as he continued to run forward. His vision was red and his heart was pounding in his ears. He would never be able to hold her again. Their child. He would lose them both without ever—

Robert slammed the door of his wife’s room open and found a man dead and another severely wounded. Celia was sitting in the corner of the room, clutching at Mya, shielding the girl’s eyes as she herself was sobbing, burying her face into Ser Jaime’s neck. The Kingslayer had his sword by his side, blood dripping from it, but he had his arms around the queen and Robert’s daughter as both cried in shock and horror, both. 

When the door had opened, Celia’s focus turned on him. 

“Robert,” his name fell from her lips like an answered prayer. 

He went to her, falling upon his knees. She let Mya go and his daughter flung herself into his arms and he held her before reaching up to touch Celia’s cheek. There was blood smeared upon it, but he saw no wound and knew it was not her own. 

“Are you alright, my queen?” His voice was hoarse and it felt as though he could breathe again. 

She nodded her head quickly, putting his hand over her own and nuzzling her cheek against his hand as her tears of fright turned into those of relief. 

“Ser Barristan,” he said, not turning his face from his wife. “Take the wounded man and lock him in the black cells, but have the maester look after him so that he will not die yet. We need to know who would dare touch my family.”

“Yes, your grace,” the older knight said. 

Robert turned his attention to his daughter. “I’m going to have to give you to Ser Jaime, sweetling,” he said, kissing her hair and pressing his face into her dark curls. “I need to pick up my wife, but I promise, everything is going to be okay.”

It took a moment, but he was able to pass his daughter to the Kingslayer. Robert then picked his wife up, her arms wrapping around his neck and she pressed her face against it and he could feel the wetness of her tears. She was so light. Was she supposed to be this light? Was she supposed to feel this small?

Robert carried his wife to his own rooms, she would be safer there. Ser Jaime followed behind him. He set his wife down into his bed and waited for the knight to settle Mya in as well. Robert tucked his girls in. 

“I want four guards with them both at all times,” he said. 

“Yes, your grace.”

“Robert…” His wife’s voice faltered, but he climbed into the bed as well. 

“I’ll stay with you both until you fall asleep.”nCelia nodded her head quickly as Mya buried her face in his chest. Robert put his hand to his wife’s cheek before letting it rest in her belly. “You’re safe now. I promise.”

—

Robert slipped from the bed shortly after his girls fell asleep. Celia has been the last one to do so, with Mya turning away from him and curling into Celia’s side. His wife had taken much longer to fall asleep, worry knitting her brows together every now and then. Robert found rubbing her belly seemed to help her calm down. 

When both had fallen asleep, he still waited just a moment more before sliding out of bed. When he opened the door he found Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime, and a few other men, including Lord Varys and Jon, waiting outside. 

“Find out who ordered this,” he said. “I don’t care what you have to do. Whoever did this knows their way about the castle and they might try again.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Robert looked to Jon. “Can you handle the meetings for a while?” he asked. “I don’t feel comfortable leaving Celia and Mya alone until we know who did this.”

“Of course,” Jon said. “Be with your family.”

Robert dismissed them all except for four of the guards and went back into his room and climbed back into bed with his girls. He put his hand over Celia’s belly and fell asleep cradling his family in his arms. 

—

“What have you learned?” Robert asked as he was summoned to the Small Council. None of them had bothered him much, save Renly. His younger brother had come to tell Celia a bawdy story that made her laugh so happily that Robert had smiled at seeing her brighten instead of flinching at a shifting shadow. Renly had also given Mya a knight doll that seemed to put the girl more at ease. 

Robert had spent his time with his family and taking care of them. He knew he should focus on the kingdom as well, but he couldn’t focus on them when his wife and daughter could still be in danger. It was selfish, he knew, but it was who he was. 

“They were Targaryen loyalists, your grace,” Lord Baelish said. “The main plot behind the attack was revenge. Possibly for Princess Elia and her children as well as the Mad King’s death. It is well known that Ser Jaime was the one to have killed him. The Kinglsayer is often with the queen, making them easy targets together.”

Robert’s fists tightened. The Targaryens were gone, the only drop of their blood remained in the Baratheon and the Martell houses. Would they never be free of them. “And the person who leaked the information?”

“One of the older guards,” Ser Barristan said. “He served under Rhaegar although he wasn’t a kingsguard.”

Robert nodded. He looked up and saw the serving girl, Shae walk in. He nodded at her, knowing that her presence meant Mya was awake from her nap. “We’ll decide what to do with them soon, but we need to plan for how to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Robert left the small council and returned to his wife and daughter once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m coming up with rules for a possible Celiaverse contest. Just know there will be 2–3 first place winners who will get a 3k Celiaverse fic of their choice. It might be expanded later on, but it would be a long one-shot. Then there would also be 2–3 second place winners who will get a 1k Celiaverse fic of their choice as well. They can either be screenshots of a verse or even scenes they desperately want to happen in a fic I’ve talked about or already posted.   
> It would be split into 2-3 categories. There would be a fanart section that may be split into photo edits/moodboards and more traditional fanart or put together in one category with the second or theirs category (depending on the art one) being a writing one.   
> You guys could send me things on Tumblr or post them on your own and tag me in them, if you don’t have a tumblr, my submissions is open for you guys to do so on that. Then, I would post all the pictures and fic pieces onto three separate posts on Ao3 and I would allow a vote to go on so YOU guys can choose as much as I can.   
> Tell me what you think!


	15. Celia VIII

The men had been like a shadow, creeping along the carpet like blood seeping into the ground, pooling at her feet and she had screamed for Shae to leave. The girl was so young and innocent. 

Jaimehad cut down the first man with ease but could only greatly wound the second as Celia began to scream.

She looked down and saw blood beginning to stain her skirts, spreading and during black and she screamed. 

Celia shot up from her bed, still screaming. 

“Celia,” Robert’s worried voice came to her just as the door to their room burst open. He pulled her to him and pressed her face to his chest. “It’s fine,” he said sternly to the guards who had entered. “Return to your posts.”

The door closed, but Celia continued to tremble. “Don’t let them hurt me,” she begged softly. 

Robert wrapped his arms around her gently. He was so large and warm and…

“I promise,” he whispered. “I promise, they will never go near you again.” He pressed his lips to her brow. “Sleep,” he told her gently. “You and the babe need rest.” He kissed her again before he helped her lay back down. “I’m right here, Celia. Right here.”

—

Celia still jumped at the slightest shadow, but Robert’s presence made it easier. So much easier. 

Her husband became more and more attentive and Celia relished in it. She relished in the way his arms held her and the warmth of his body pressed against hers. His attention and care let Celia ease back into focus and she began to walk more outside their room, although Jaime was always with her. 

“I wish I could have done better protecting you,” the Lannister knight told her gently.

She put her hand on his arm. “You protected me from danger,” she told him. “That’s all you could have done. My life and my child’s are in good hands when you are near.”

Jaime smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her hand. “You honor me with your flattery, your grace.”

Celia smiled, feeling a blush come upon her cheeks. “It is not just flattery,” she said. “It’s the truth.”

—

“Robert?”

All the lords of the small council stood as she entered the meeting chamber. Her husband rose first and went to her quickly, checking her over. 

“Are you alright, my queen?” he asked gently, cupping her face in his hands. “I was told you would be resting.”

Celia put her hands over his own. “I’m fine,” she said. “I heard you were meeting to decide what to do about the Targaryen loyalists.”

Robert’s eyes darkened. His anger at that family was still palpable, but it seemed fresh, more for current wrongs than past ones. “You need not worry, Celia. They shall not harm you again.”

“I know, my king,” she said. “I trust you will protect me, but I had a thought, three really, that might appease them.”

“ _ Appease _ them?” Stannis asked, dumbfounded.

Robert seemed to ignore his brother. “What would you suggest?”

Celia beamed up at her husband, happy to be heard. “Might I sit down first, my feet are a little swollen.” 

Robert led her to his chair at the council table and pushed it in for her after she sat down. 

“Tell us your thoughts, your grace,” Lord Varys said. 

She put a hand on her belly and took a breath before she spoke. “As we all know, my husband gained the throne because he defeated Prince Rhaegar, but also because his grandmother was Rhaelle Targaryen. However, there are still people who believe the Targaryen name should be the one to hold the Iron Throne. There are also those who do not care for what happened during the Sack of King’s Landing and I am not referring to Ser Jaime killing the Mad King.” She paused and saw a few of the men shift uncomfortably. “Princess Elia was raped and her children murdered. Perhaps Prince Aegon’s death could be brushed aside as the death of Rhaegar’s heir, but Princess Rhaenys was innocent, just as innocent as her mother and brother. There are those, those who are even loyal to us, that find their deaths reprehensible. I propose we give the Martells the Mountain so that they might have justice for Princess Elia and her children’s deaths.”

“The Mountain is one of Tywin Lannister’s men,” Petyr said. “By blaming the Mountain, you are blaming one of the most powerful men in Westeros.”

Celia frowned. “If Tywin Lannister does not give the Martells the Mountain, then he is telling Westeros that he ordered the death of the princess and her children and the Mountain was merely following orders. Tywin is to give up the Mountain or, he shall lose his seat.” Everyone was quiet, but Celia continued. “Lord Tywin only joined the rebellion once it was obvious who was going to win. I do not trust him. And, should he protect a knight who murdered the wife and children of the man who knighted him… well, I do not trust him to serve my husband or my children once they come of age.”

“Write to Tywin Lannister after the meeting, Robert ordered Jon.

“Of course, your grace,” Lord Arryn said, bowing his head. He turned his gaze to Celia. “You said you had three ideas.”

“Yes. The last two are a joined effort, I suppose. I wish for the Martells to be the ones to locate the remaining Targaryen children and return them to Westeros.”

“Whatever for?” Renly asked. 

“Doran has a daughter as his heir and her children must remain Martells. Discuss a betrothment between Princess Arianne and Viserys Targaryen,” she said. “Then, Daenerys, that was the name of the daughter, I believe, and have her brought here to be fostered. She shall marry my husband’s heir and take on the name of Baratheon. This way, the Targaryen loyalists will be appeased. We should not blame a child for their parent’s crimes. My husband’s reign started with bloodshed. Let us begin it with reconciliation.”

—

That night, Robert seemed to worship Celia’s body as though she were the Maiden herself. He brought every inch of her to life and she rested in the afterglow. 

She felt loved. 

She felt cherished. 

She felt wanted. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very simple way of ending the Targaryen name that also allows for integration and less blood on their hands.  
> Also, I love Elia far too much for her to not have justice. I hope she gets some in the books.


	16. Robert VIII

Robert had gotten up briefly in the night after Ser Jaime had briefly come in to say a raven had come from Lord Tywin. The Old Lion has agreed to give up the Mountain in exchange for not being charged as well for the crimes of his man. 

Robert wrote back to Lord Tywin saying he was in charge of bringing the Mountain to the Red Keep where Prince Oberyn would then take it from there. 

After he was finished with that business, Robert returned to his room and found that Celia had moved herself until she was on his side of the bed. He chuckled under his breath and slid into the bed on her side. It didn’t take long for her to sense his body heat and began to gravitate towards him until she was snuggled into his arms. 

Robert pressed a gentle kiss to her hair before letting himself fall back asleep. 

—

“I heard it is the queen I should be thanking for my sister’s justice,” Prince Oberyn said. The Mountain had already been found guilty and the Dornish prince had taken his head in one blow. 

“My wife felt it would be the right thing,” Robert said. “My anger for Rhaegar was fresh and I let my hatred blind me to what was a wrongful death. I will never be able to give you your sister or her children back, but at least I can give you justice.”

Oberyn nodded. “And you have another quest for me, do you not?”

“I need you to find the remaining Targaryen children and take them to Dorne to be raised. My wife initially suggested that the girl could foster here in King’s Landing, but she’s already busy with the babe in her belly and I don’t want her to stress her too much. Both children can be fostered in Dorne and Viserys could marry your niece and Daenerys could marry my heir, once I have him. Our two families would be united in marriage and the Targaryen name could die more peacefully. Besides, the Martells are better at the whole family thing than the Baratheons are.”

“Do not the Tully words begin with family?” Oberyn asked. 

“They do, but, again, I don’t want to put too much on my wife’s plate. It’s been stressful recently and I don’t want to give her any more stress.”

“I shall do what I can.”

—

Dark hair turned into red. Grey eyes into blue. 

“Help me.” 

His wife was clutching at her swollen belly as blood trickled between her thighs. 

“Robert,” she sobbed. “Help me.”

He was jerked awake by the feeling of falling. Robert sat up quickly and looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty. Then, he remembered that Celia had gone back to her room for the night since it was slightly cooler. 

Robert got out of bed and went to his wife’s room. He nodded to Ser Jaime before entering and climbing into bed with his wife. 

“Mm,” Celia mumbled. One eye opened to look at him. “You okay?”

“Just a nightmare,” he said, kissing her face tenderly. “Go back to sleep.”

“Okay,” she said with a yawn before drifting off as though she hadn’t even woken at all. Celia snuggled into his arms and Robert closed his eyes to sleep. 


	17. Celia IX

Robert had gone out hunting that morning with Prince Oberyn. Celia had wished them luck and Robert had even placed a chaste kiss upon her lips before he rode out. She blushed at the thought of it. 

While he was off, Celia attended to matters of state, organizing her husband’s papers and the like. Her stomach seemed to tighten on occasion, but it wasn’t painful, so she ignored it. 

“Celia!” 

She balanced herself against the wall as her legs and feet grew damp. Lysa was at her side in a second. Another wave of pain pinched at her stomach. 

“I’ll go get the maester!” Shae shouted and began to run towards the old man’s study. 

“Let’s get you to your room,” Lysa said gently. It was perhaps the most gentle that Celia had ever heard her sister be in years. 

“What’s happening?” Celia cried as the pain continued to build. 

“You are going into labor,” her sister said, rubbing her back gently. 

“It’s too early!” Celia sobbed. “It’s too early!”

“It appears the child wishes to be known now,” her sister reasoned carefully. “You there,” she shouted to Jaime. “Help the queen to her bed.”

Jaime was at her side in an instant and picked her up into his arms as though she weighed barely anything at all and carried her to her bed. 

“I need Robert,” Celia begged. “Please, send for my husband. He promised he’d be here.”

“I’ll send a man for him, my lady,” Jaime promised. 

She watched as he went and she held her belly carefully. “Please wait a little longer,” she begged her baby. “Please wait a little longer for your father to come.”

—

The contractions grew closer together and grew more painful, yet Robert still hadn’t arrived. How far had they gone on their hunting to not make it back yet? Or perhaps it hadn’t been so long and it only felt like it was to her? 

The pain grew to be unbearable and tears began to stream down her cheeks as Maester Pycelle said she wasn’t ready yet. Lysa has been pushed out of the room by the maester and the midwives. 

“Please,” Celia choked on a broken sob. “Please! I want my husband. I want Robert. Please! I’m frightened.”

“You’ll be fine, my queen,” Maester Pycelle said. “Plenty of women have given birth before you and plenty have done so after you.”

“It hurts,” she sobs. “Please, it hurts!”

The door burst open and Celia looked, hoping it was Robert, but it was her sister and Jaime instead. 

“You’re not to come in here,” the maester said irritably. “Escort Ser Jaime and Lady Arryn out.”

A midwife stepped forward to shoo them out but Jaime drew his sword. “I would like to see you try. I killed a king with this sword, do not make me add a midwife as well.”

A bluff, but a bluff that let her sister and Jaime stay. 

Jaime sheathed his sword and Lysa was at Celia’s side in an instant, holding her hand and wiping the sweat from her brow. Jaime took his spot on her other side and took her other hand as well. “The king will arrive soon,” he told her gently. “Let’s allow the baby to have a moment of quiet before the king arrives.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to her hand. “It’s going to be alright, your grace. I promise.”

—

She gave birth to a girl. A tiny little girl with tufts of dark hair that could be either black or a dark red, it was too soon to tell. Her daughter had a squished nose and the most perfect little lips and a small cleft in her chin that Celia knew came from Robert. 

Her daughter was the most perfect thing she had ever seen. Lysa had kissed her brow and Jaime escorted her out so that Celia might have a moment alone with her daughter. 

Some lords might be disappointed that Celia had not given birth to a son, but she wasn’t. She could hardly believe how beautiful her daughter was. It only took a matter of seconds, possibly even less than that, and Celia was in love. She would do anything for this babe at her breast. Anything. 

The door opened and Celia looked up and found a panting Robert at the door. His face was red and Celia was certain that he had run all the way there. 

She took a short breath. “Would you like to meet your daughter?”

All the fear and apprehension that Celia hadn’t recognized in her husband at first melted away and he smiled. He sat by her side and looked at their daughter with such genuine care. He touched a finger to her cheek and brushed the babe’s skin with his knuckle. He then pressed a kiss to her temple. 

“She’s beautiful, Celia,” he told her gently.”

Celia smiled, leaning into his side as he wrapped his arm around her. 

“Have you thought of a name for her?”

“Sansa,” Celia said softly “I believe she is to be Sansa.”

“Sansa Baratheon,” he said gently. “A beautiful name for a beautiful babe.”

Celia blushed as he pressed another kiss to her hair. 

—

Celia awoke, not even realizing that she had fallen asleep. 

She heard the sound of a deep rumbling hum and looked to see her husband, standing, rocking their daughter as he hummed to her softly. 

“We don’t want to wake up your mother,” he told their daughter gently. “She worked very hard so you could be here right now and she needs to sleep. Can you sleep too, my little fawn?”

“Can I see her, Father?” Mya’s small voice came at the end of Celia’s bed. 

Robert knelt down and showed Sansa to the older girl. “This is your little sister, Mya. She’s very small so she can’t play with you right now. Sansa is going to need her big sister to look after her though. Can you and Miss Shae do that?”

Mya nodded enthusiastically. 

Robert smiled and Celia did as well, allowing sleep to claim her, knowing her family was safe. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cersei makes her nefarious reappearance next chapter. I am so sorry.


	18. Robert IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for the third section, non-consensual initiation of sex  
> I doubt these sorts of societies and settings had the proper terminology for men who have suffered rape.  
> Robert will be dealing with that and the aftermath, going through the question of if he actually wanted sex or not (he did not want it at all).  
> Cersei is also very manipulative in this chapter verbally and physically. She also threatens to cry rape if he does not comply.  
> It’s in the third part so after the second break.

Sansa too after her mother in every way. Although plenty of the lords who had been allowed near his daughter had congratulated the king and told him that his daughter took after him, he didn’t think so. 

His daughter was so tiny that she could basically fit in his hands alone. Mya had been a rather large babe, but Sansa was so small. Robert knew he was a rather large man, but he had never felt too big for his body before, not until he held Sansa. 

His daughter was like her mother that way, small and vulnerable, dependent on him to care for them. He wanted to do right by her and her mother. He wanted to be a better man for her. 

Gods, it seemed like Mya had been born just yesterday and now….

He didn’t want to miss a single moment of his daughter’s life. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

—

Robert crawled into his wife’s bed after the small council meeting finally finished. Their daughter was in a crib next to his wife’s side of the bed and he checked on the little girl and smiled at her peaceful expression.

Celia did as she usually did whenever he shared a bed with her. She gravitated towards his warmth and nuzzled her gaze into his chest. Robert chuckled and wrapped his arms around her and snuggled into the covers himself. 

He fell asleep to the feel of her breath against his chest and the rise and fall of her chest. 

It was the most at peace Robert had felt in years. 

—

Robert was working at his desk when a knock came to his door. “Come in.” When the door opened and no one made themselves known, Robert looked up and found Lady Cersei standing before him. He tensed. “Do you need something?”

“Do you, your grace?” she asked innocently. 

“Not from you, no.” He returned to his work, determined to ignore her. 

“You’ve been so distant with me, your grace,” she continued, circling around his desk like a lion waiting for its prey. 

“I’ve had reason to,” he replied, still not looking at her. “I have no _need_ for you, as you put it.”

“Are you certain?” she asked, placing her hand on his shoulder and letting it slide across the back of his neck and to his other shoulder. He shuddered at the touch, a chill running up his spine. “I know you have needs,” she said, placing both hands on his shoulders, her fingers rubbing at his muscles. He could feel her hot breath against his ear. “I’ve experienced your need so very often, your grace.”

“I have no more need of you,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Then what is this, my king?” Lady Cersei asked, her hand descending down his chest to touch his cock through his trousers. She rubbed at him and moaned softly in his ear as she felt the slight hardness of it. “Is this for me, your grace? Or your wife?” She squeezed him and Robert tensed. “I heard the birth was rather difficult,” she said. “The queen has been bedridden for days. It will be a month or so before she’s fully healed.” The Lannister woman began to kiss at his neck. Shall you force yourself on her to fulfill your need as Prince Rhaegar did with Elia Martell? Did you know that he mounted her so quickly, so full of his own need that it left her unable to bear any more children?” She continued to fondle him until he was hard. The woman then released him and walked around so that she stood before him between himself and the desk. “It would be wrong time force the queen to satisfy you in her delicate decision. Do you not wish to be better than Prince Rhaegar?” She lifted her skirts and for up on his chair to straddle his hips and she began to untie the laces of his trousers. “You still have need of me, your grace. Shall I please you while your wife cannot? For isn’t it every unmarried maid’s duty to please the king?”

“You are no maid,” he said, refusing to look at her and hating his body for responding to her touch. He did not want her. He did not want her in his lap or touching his body. But if his body was responding, did that mean that he did?

“Of course, Robert,” she said, sinking into him and he shuddered again as he begged his body to grow limp. “But you took my maidenhead. Will you not take responsibility for me? If not….” She leaned forward and began to whisper in his ear. “Shall I scream? Shall I tell my father what you did? Shall I tell him that I was forced? Who would Westeros believe? A whoremonger or an innocent lady of a good house?”

—

Robert went to his own rooms that night and ordered a bath. He felt disgusting. He felt dirty and he felt… Even being covered with the blood and grime of battle had not felt so disgusting. 

When the bath was brought to him, he undressed and ordered the clothes burned. He then ordered more roses for Celia and quickly submerged under the water of the tub and yelled. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Know that Robert never said “yes” and that the patriarchy would have definitely left a lot of male victims in its wake


	19. Celia X

Celia began to shift awake, her body still rather sore from birth, even though it had been barely half a week ago. She had moved back to her room for the night for no other reason than she was getting too hot sleeping with Robert and she enjoyed the blissful breeze that came from her window. 

She stretched, her nose finally freed from under the comfort of the covers and that was when the nauseating smell of roses wafted to her. Celia’s eyes snapped open and she found her room filled with the awful flower, spilling over onto the floor. 

Tears began to slide down her cheeks as she covered her mouth and rushed from her bed to empty the contents of her stomach into her chamber pot. Celia wipes her mouth and began to sob. 

She knew what those flowers meant. She knew what them being in her room so early in the morning meant. 

Celia crawled back into her bed and curled in on herself. Things had been going so well. She thought… She had fooled herself into thinking Robert had started to care for her, started to love her. 

Stupid. She was so stupid. Just a stupid girl who believed songs and stories. A stupid girl with foolish dreams and expectations who never learned. 

“Your grace?” A knock came to the door and Shae entered, holding Mya’s hand. “Lady Mya has a gift for you.”

Celia quickly wiped away her tears. “You did not have to get me anything, sweetling.”

Shae helped Robert’s daughter into Celia’s bed and the little girl carefully crawled over to offer Celia some daisies. 

“They’re pretty,” she said firmly, as though that was the most serious thing to ever say. 

Celia smiled and took them, giving them a quick smell for Mya’s benefit. However, she found the smell of daisies was much better than had of roses. 

“Thank you, Mya,” Celia said, pressing a kiss to the girl’s cheek. “I shall treasure them.”

The little girl beamed. 

—

Celia listened to Cersei’s whispers and simpering pleasantries as some of the noble ladies taken under her wing echoed hollow praises to the Lannister woman’s beauty. They knew full well that Celia could hear them, but they cared not for her peace of mind or her heart. 

Although Robert had seemed so happy with Sansa, so pleased when he held his daughter, Celia had forgotten that she had failed to provide a male heir. Failed to secure her husband’s new reign. 

Failed to please them in their wedding bed. 

“Ignore then,” Lysa said gently. 

Ever since Sansa was born, her older sister had drawn herself closer to Celia. Lysa held Celia’s hand as she ordered the servants to throw out the roses and held Celia as she cried. 

“I’m trying,” Celia said softly. 

Lysa reached over and took Celia’s hand. “You are the  _ queen _ . Make her remember that. You wear the crown, bear the king’s name, and bore him a legitimate child. She does not, has not, and will not.” Her sister squeezed her hand gently. “You’re the girl who threatened Brandon Stark with a dead fish. What is a lion compared to a direwolf?”

Celia squeezed her sister’s hand back. “What are you speaking of, Lady Cersei?”

The ladies surrounding the Lannister woman looked at her while Cersei continued to sew. 

“Nothing you must concern yourself with, your grace,” Lady Cersei said. “Although, perhaps I could give you advice. You are so unused to men, perhaps you might wish to be better informed?”

Celia straightened. “Lady Cersei, tell me, to which houses are your family tied to? I believe it was Marbrand, Swift, and Frey?”

Lady Cersei narrowed her eyes. “That would be correct, your grace.”

“I believe Marbrand and Swift are both houses in the Westerlands and House Frey is of the Riverlands. Correct?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Ah,” Celia said. “How foolish of me. With your strutting I would have thought House Lannister would have made better alliances by now.”

The Lannister woman’s cheeks grew red and her eyes shone like a snake’s. “I’m not sure what you mean, your grace.”

“My own family is connected to House Baratheon, Stark, Arryn, and Whent. Of course, the Whents are a Riverland house, although they do have the great keep of Harrenhal. Sister, I believe that’s three kingdoms connected to our family, is it not?”

Lysa smiled. “Four, considering our own family.”

“Of course.” She returned her attention to Lady Cersei. “What allies have you made for yourself? I am sure your father must wish for you to make some connections. It cannot be Martell for your father already ruined those chances. How close you were to being a princess. It cannot be Tully for I fear you are not my brother’s preference and my uncle does not wish to wed.” Lysa chuckled. “It cannot be a Stark. Not an Arryn. Someone from the Reach perhaps? Stannis is still unwed, perhaps you are aiming for a Baratheon? We would be sisters then, I suppose.”

“I am not thinking of marriage at the moment,” Lady Cersei said. 

“So you wish to have a bastard then?” Celia asked. 

Any whispering that had been occurring was silenced immediately. 

“You have gravely misjudged your standing, my lady,” Celia said, her chin lifted. “I have the backing of four great houses, each leaders of specific kingdoms. You have the loyalty of only one kingdom and I fear your father has alienated many by his actions during the sack. You are under the impression that you have power here at court. You forget that it is my head that bears the crown and it is my body that bore the king a legitimate child. Tell me, is House Lannister so willing to put its head in the chopping block. Surely you do not think yours is the only one able to  _ rain  _ down punishment on those who wrong them.”

No one was breathing then. 

Celia smiled gently. “Forgive me,” she said, putting her hand over her mouth in mock surprise. “I fear having a child causes me to speak rather freely. I do believe I am leaking now as well. I shall go to my daughter then. I’m sorry that none of you have been able to meet her yet, I fear I have gotten close to so few of you to have such an honor. Shall we go, Lysa?”

“Of course, my queen.”

The two sisters left arm in arm and Celia took a shaky breath when they were out of sight of the other women. 

Within five hours, roses began to be delivered to Celia’s room. 

—

“You called for me, your grace?” Jaime said as he closed the door behind him. 

Celia went to him immediately and threw her arms around his neck, pressing her lips fervently against his own. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and all she could taste was their bitterness as Jaime cupped her face in his hands and pulled away. 

“Celia, don’t,” he said softly. 

“And why not? Do you or love me? I do not care if it is not romantic.” Her vision grew blurry as she continued to cry. “Am I so broken that I cannot be loved? I have done all that is required of me. I gave him my body and my heart and my cunt.” She slid her hands to his chest and gripped his shirt. “If he can have his way with others why can’t I? Why can’t I find love and satisfaction with another? Jaime, please.  _ Please _ .”

She got on her toes again and kissed his lips, begging for her action to be returned. 

Jaime wrapped his arms around her and pressed his lips more firmly against herse, slanting them slightly and letting her feel more of him.

It was wrong. All wrong. She could feel it in her stomach, a twisting snake wrapping itself around her until she grew nauseous. Celia pulled away and pressed her face into his chest. 

“Why can’t he love me? Why can’t I love you?”

“Because he’s an idiot,” Jaime said, stroking her hair. “And because I am your friend and only your friend. Because you would not risk rumors when it could put yourself and your child at risk.” Jaime pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “You are loved, Celia,” he whispered gently. “You are so dearly loved. I promise you. Even if it is not by Robert, you are dearly loved.”

—

_ Dearest Celia and Lysa, _

_ I am happy to announce that my second son was born just two days before writing this letter. He is gorgeous and takes after Ned completely. We have named him Jonnel Stark, although I have already gotten to calling him Jon. Gods, he is adorable. I believe he shall be less of a hassle than his older brother. _

_ Tell me soon when I might hear good news from you, Lysa, and send word whenever our little princess reaches a milestone, Celia.  _

_ Yours affectionately, _

_ Cat _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Celia still likes flowers, just not roses.
> 
> Celia standing up for herself.
> 
> Some of y’all wanted a Jailia (Jaime x Celia) kiss.
> 
> And the mystery of Jon has been solved!
> 
> Also, after Thursday, I’m taking one week off from writing because my supervisor scheduled me for too many hours next week and I’m going to be utterly exhausted. I might change up the writing schedule for my fics since I’ve been under too much stress lately (I work at a grocery store). Thank you for understanding!


	20. Robert X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for the second part (after the first break): unintentional victim blaming

“Is my wife alright?” Robert asked. It had been three and a half months, one hundred and five days (he counted), since Sansa had been born. “I know you told me that women need time to heal after birth.” He wondered if it was why his mother had him and his brothers so far apart or if it was what caused Princess Elia to lose her ability to bear children. 

“The queen is healthy, much stronger than she appears to be,” Maester Pycelle said with a slight bow. “I have no doubt that she’s ready to continue her wifely duties so that she might provide you with an heir, your grace.”

In all honesty, Robert could care less about an heir for his dynasty. He missed his wife. He missed having her by his side. He missed waking up wrapped around her and the slight scent of lemons that wafted off her skin just after supper when he’s had the cook make her favorite lemon cakes. 

However, he had not wanted to hurt her, not wanted to be like Rhaegar and force himself upon her so she might bear him a son. His body and heart longed for his wife, even as she had been recovering from their daughter’s birth, and it frightened him. He had woken, many a night, hard and wanting her, but Cersei’s whispers echoed in his head. 

He would not be like Rhaegar, would not be the man who drove his wife into infertility because of his wants, the man whose seed killed a girl not much younger than his wife.

Then, his body had also wanted Cersei. His body had reacted to her touch and her threats and her whispers. He had felt dirty and unclean and perhaps his head wanted it as well. He had tried thinking of his wife in those moments, thinking of Celia’s gentle smiles and even more tender fingers, but thinking of her felt as though he was dirtying her, bringing her into the disgusting want of his body that he wished he did not have. 

However, if his wife was healed, he would not need Cersei anymore. Perhaps he could find her a husband, someone who would accept a woman already deflowered. Someone with enough power that Lord Tywin would say nothing. 

Perhaps—

“Your grace?” the maester asked, pulling Robert from his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“The queen is fine and healthy. I would not be concerned for her body, she is a Tully afterall, her sister has given birth to her second child already. I have no doubt that the queen will be with child once again.”

“Right,” Robert nodded before leaving the maester’s solar. 

—

Ser Jaime stood before his wife’s door and Robert nodded to him. However, the knight did not step aside once Robert drew closer. 

“I need to enter my wife’s rooms,” he said calmly. 

“No,” Ser Jaime said. “I don’t think you do.”

Robert narrowed his eyes. “Let me by.”

“The queen has requested that she be alone tonight.” The man’s green eyes grew dark with a tremble of anger. “I’m sure you can entertain yourself elsewhere.”

Robert grew pale, he felt sick. He did not  _ want _ Cersei. He wanted his wife. “Let me by.”

Ser Jaime had his hand on the pommel of his sword. “My duty is to the queen, not you.”

The door behind him opened. Celia stood at its entrance, wearing her shift. “Let him through, Jaime, and give us a moment.”

Ser Jaime bowed to her and stepped back. Celia turned and returned to the interior of her room and Robert followed. 

“Celia—” he began as the door closed. 

“I’m afraid you have wasted a trip, your grace,” his wife said, turning to him. 

Robert’s mouth remained open for a moment. “I—what?”

“You have wasted a trip,” his wife repeated. “You need not bed me tonight.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed, worry bleeding into his stomach. “Are you unwell?” he asked, stepping towards her. He cupped his wife’s face in his hands. “Do you—”

She turned her face away from him and stepped back. “I am perfectly fine, I have been for a while now.” She sighed. “I simply meant that tonight is not one of the nights that will give us a greater chance of conceiving an heir.”

Robert blinked. “What?”

“It would be pointless to take your rights as a husband when there is little chance of a child coming from a union tonight.”

“Celia,” Robert said, stepping closer to her. “I am not thinking of a child tonight. Can I not simply be with you as a husband with his wife?”

Celia continued to look away. “I am not one of your whores.”

Robert’s stomach twisted. “Celia—”

“If you wish to find release in a supple body and have no wish for children, go to one of your whores in the brothels or the ladies you’ve tarnished your own bed with.” She looked at him as he found her eyes red from crying not too long ago. “I will not be one of your whores that you pick up when you wish and cast aside when convenient.”

“Celia, please, you have to understand—”

“Did you sleep with Lady Cersei?” she asked. 

Robert looked down, his stomach twisted. He could not lie to her. “Yes.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

He could still feel the vice grips of Cersei on his cock, the way she sunk down on him and threatened him. He could still feel the way his cock hardened and his seed spilled. 

“Yes.” He felt nauseous. It felt wrong. His wife closed herself off from him. Robert stepped towards her. “Celia, please—”

“The maester says I am more likely to conceive in a few nights,” she said, turning away from him. “Return then. Goodnight, your grace.”

—

“At least you’re happy to see me,” Robert said with a gentle smile when he saw his daughter perk up at his appearance and reach for him, giggling and opening and closing her hands up at him. He picked her up and pressed a kiss to her brow. Sansa gripped his beard and tugged on it. “Good morning, Mya,” he said to his eldest daughter, pulling up a seat meant for her septa up to the tiny desk. “How are your lessons?”

“Boring,” she replied. “I want to go climbing.”

“Not many places to climb here,” he admitted. “How about you try writing a letter to your mother?” Robert suggested. “I write to her of your progress, but I’m sure she’d love to hear from you.”

Mya perked up. “Really?”

“Really. You can even include a drawing.”

Mya grinned, her smile matching his own. “Can you help, Father?”

“Of course.”

—

Robert kissed his wife tenderly as he pushed inside her. She turned her face away to gasp at the intrusion. He kissed her neck instead as he built a steady rhythm, thrusting into her with care and attention, listening to her gasps and moans, shifting his hips until she was panting. 

“There,” she whispered. “ _ There _ .”

Robert picked up the pace, but pressed his thumb against her bud, rubbing it until she was falling apart around him. He rode her through it and brought her to another release as he spilled inside her.

Robert pulled out of her with a groan and fell on his back. He reached for her, wanting her to be in his arms, to curl around her and feel her warmth, but she pulled out of his reach, sliding off the bed and reaching down to pull her shift from the floor. 

“Goodnight, your grace,” she said before leaving the room, leaving Robert alone with the ghosts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Women wouldn’t have had the language to deal with Robert’s situation either and Celia doesn’t know the full story yet either. It also doesn’t help that Robert is still reeling and dealing with the fact that his body responded to Cersei’s advances.


	21. Celia XI

Although she was accompanied by more than just Jaime, Celia went down to Flea Bottom to explore one of the main schools she had set up. She had only been able to see it in theory as well as the reports handed to her by Lord Varys. It was quite another thing to see it in person. 

The building had been repaired and looked far newer than any of the other surrounding buildings, but it was much fancier than any of the schools she had seen in the Riverlands. The King’s coming went a long way, apparently. 

She sat in on one of the lessons and even raised her hand to answer the occasional question, earning a giggle from quite a few students. One of the students even proudly pointed out her spelling mistake. 

What did her heart best, however, was watching the children play in the courtyard. She had set it up a little while ago, but a mandatory play time allowed for the children to get some of their excess energy out so they would be better able to concentrate on their studies. The older students still sat, but they discussed their trade and went over ideas with students of other practices. The younger children simply played.

Celia spent her time running around with the younger children, occasionally sitting to play the princess for the boys and guarding dragon for the girls. It did her heart good to do so. It reminded her of her youth. It reminded her of Princess Rhaenys and Prince Viserys. Or what could have been with Prince Aegon. 

“Your grace,” one of the girls said, coming to Celia as she sat down to rest for a moment 

“Yes, sweetling?” 

The little girl curtsied and then handed Celia folded parchment in the shape of a flower. “For the little princess.”

Celia smiled, examining it. Although blotched, the parchment had been dyed to look red and was folded into something resembling a tulip. “Thank you,” Celia said. “I’m sure the princess will love it.” She thought for a moment and thought of Mya. “Could you perhaps make me another? I know another little girl who would want one.”

The girl’s smile brightened and nodded, giggling and rushing off, a swell of pride seeming to burst from the little girl. 

—

Jaime walked Celia around the garden. 

They never spoke of the two kisses they had shared in Celia’s moment of pain and weakness. She thought of the kiss more often than she should, but it wasn’t thoughts of longing that brought the memory to mind, it was regret. She was glad that Jaime stopped the first and glad that her own conscience stopped the second. It had nearly ruined their friendship and the trust between the two of them. Perhaps, in another life, a marriage between the two of them would have worked, but it was not the case for them now. Now, they were friends and that was all they would or could be. 

After a while, Jaime became affectionate with her again, although it was in a way her Uncle Brynden had been with her as a child, as Ned had been with her as well. It was the love and care of an older brother. He still pressed the occasional kiss to the crown of her head, but that was all. 

Celia prefered this relation anyhow. She felt so much safer and more at peace with the ease between the two of them. It helped, as well, that Lysa joined them often. In fact, Lysa was on Jaime’s other arm. 

“I am blessed to bear beauty on both arms,” he had said when they made their way down to the gardens. Celia had giggled while Lysa had merely rolled her eyes. 

“Has my sister been giving you any more trouble?” Jaime asked Celia gently. 

“As much as she usually does,” Celia replied. 

Her knight grimace. “I apologize on my family’s behalf.”

Celia smiled and patted his hand. “I do not blame you for their actions. I must simply move forward. I have given the king a child and one day I will have his heir.” She took a fortifying breath. “We will soon get beyond this.”

“Although,” Lysa said. “I am sorely tempted to find a dead fish and put it in her clothes chest.”

Jaime let his head fall back and laughed. “I would love to see it.”

Celia smiled, gripping Jaime’s arm just a little more tightly, happy to be with her friends. 

—

Robert was between her legs and Celia threw her head back, gusting at his hair as he drank from her, bringing her a satisfying release as she cried out in pleasure. 

It was one of the days Maester Pycelle suggested would give Celia a higher chance of pregnancy. It was only on those days that she visited her husband’s bed, but Robert always seemed interested in other things along with making a child. 

When her husband was done licking her, he pulled himself up and steadied himself above her. He was hot and heavy against her folds and Celia moaned as he pushed his way in until he was buried to the hilt. He groaned into her neck, mouthing at her throat as he slowly began to roll his hips into hers. One of his hands went to her breasts and he began to fondle it, pinching her ever so slightly so she clenched around him hard. 

“Robert,” she whispered into his hair as he began to pick up the pace, putting one leg around his waist and letting the other be pressed against her chest. 

He was hitting just the right sport for her to grow dizzy in the feel of him, the smell of salt and iron as he began to pound into her, pistoning his hips until their bed was slamming against the wall, rocking with the pace Robert set. 

He groaned her name like a prayer and Celia so wished to believe him, wished to—

She fell apart as he continued to drive into her until he began to spend. Celia saw stars as he filled her up and for a moment she wanted to believe that the only person who shared this bed with her husband was herself. However, she knew that wasn’t true. 

Her husband rolled into his back and Celia did not bother to move. Her husband, although spent, had grown quicker at pulling her to him, holding her to his chest, burying his face into her body like a sanctuary. 

However, she always managed to peel herself away from him and leave for her own rooms. She would not break. She would not let him break her anymore than he already had. 

—

Celia laughed as she chased Mya around the garden. Although it was Jaime’s day off, he still stuck close to her, simply out of his armor and only a sword on his belt. He had Sansa in his hands as he laid on his back. He held the little princess away from him and the girl squealed and wiggled about as he let her  _ fly.  _

Celia smiled and let herself pretend for a moment that it was Robert, but was content, even so, that it was Jaime. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Celiaverse contest is now open! Find the rules [HERE](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/615380999853981696/i-have-finally-come-out-with-the-rules-for-the) ! We have a couple entries already!   
> I also have a new posting schedule [HERE](https://fromtheboundlesssea.tumblr.com/post/615754777656197120/okay-new-release-schedule-for-the)


	22. Robert XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert deals with the aftermath of another time with Cersei and gets drunk and doesn’t make good decisions in the second part (after the first break). 
> 
> He’s more belligerent in this chapter because he has no real food outlet emotionally for what’s happening to him.

Robert was speaking to his brothers and Lord Varys on their way to the small council chamber. They passed by the gardens and Robert heard the sound of laughter and recognized it as his wife and daughter’s. He glanced over and found Celia chasing Mya around the garden, but, for a second, he could not see Sansa. Then, he did. The Lannister knight was on his back holding up Robert’s youngest daughter and then bringing her closer to him so that he might blow a small raspberry on her cheek, causing the girl to fall into a fit of giggles. 

Robert’s heart twisted and he stopped in his tracks. Renly ran into his back while Lord Varys and Stannis merely stopped beside the king. 

“Ser Jaime is quite the man with children,” Lord Varys said. “He and the Queen were often put in charge of Princess Elia’s children during the reign of King Aerys. It makes sense that they are so comfortable with one another.”

“They look more than comfortable with one anoth—Ow!”

Robert glanced over and saw Stannis glaring at Renly as their younger brother rubbed his stomach as though hit. 

“They are merely friends,” Stannis said, turning his attention to Robert. “She seems smart enough and I doubt she would put her child in danger for a semi-disgraced knight.”

“You should romance her, Robert,” Renly said.

“I’m trying.”

Stannis snorted, then covered it with a cough. “The queen needs to have an heir next. While it’s good to show that you aren’t putting her body in danger as Rhaegar did Princess Elia, you still need a male heir.”

He wanted one, but he wanted his wife more. Robert looked to Lord Varys. “Have you found the Targaryens yet?”

“I believe they are in Braavos, but I am still trying to find out where exactly,” the Spider said. 

Robert nodded. “Send Prince Oberyn once they have been found. Viserys shall marry Princess Arianne and Daenerys will marry my heir.”

Lord Varys bowed. “Of course, your grace.”

—

Robert scrubbed his skin raw.

He hated it. Hated how his body reacted to the way Cersei touched him. Hated the way Celia would look at him the next day. Hated the way how he felt so heavy and helpless and useless.

“Bring me wine,” he ordered, as he continued to rub his skin clean from Cersei’s touches. 

When the servant brought back his drink he drank it all until he felt light headed and higher than he had been before. He drank until he was dizzy and swayed with the confidence of the man who had defeated the Silver Prince in combat. 

He climbed out of his bath and shook himself off like a dog before stumbling out of his room. 

“Your grace—” his guard said, but Robert could care less what the man was going to say. 

Robert made his way to his wife’s chambers and found her walking to them herself, arm-in-arm with Ser Jaime Lannister. 

“Seven Hells,” came the voice of his good sister, Lady Arryn. 

“Celia,” Robert said, looking upon his pretty wife. 

Her hair was long and loose and her breasts were still so full. And her lips that edible shade of pink. However, her pretty lips were in a thin line. 

“Ser Jaime, please escort my sister back to the gardens or wherever she wishes to go,” his wife said, not taking her eyes off him. 

“Your grace—”

“I’ll handle my husband, go.”

Although Robert could sense the knight and the other lady leave, he only had eyes for his wife. Robert fell on his knees and went to her on them, grasping at her skirts. “Celia,” he breathed. “Celia. Celia.”

She sighed. “Robert, you’re drunk. I can smell the alcohol from here.”

He buried his face in her skirts, pressing his face in until he met resistance, until he found where the juncture of her thighs were. He rubbed his face there and he could feel Celia stiffen slightly. 

“Robert,” his wife warned. “I told you I will not—”

“I don’t have to spill,” he begged. “I don’t even have to enter…” everything grew blurry. “Please, just let me taste you.” _Let me get rid of her taste from my mouth._ “Please, please, please.” He gripped her legs through the fabric of her skirt.

“Robert—”

He looked up at her and he could see the pain in her eyes. He couldn’t bear to look. “Please.”

“You're drunk, Robert,” she said. “You don’t mean it.”

“I want you,” he begged. “Please. I want you. I want you. I want you.”

Celia sighed. “The maester said it didn’t have to be on the specific day, the calculations aren’t always—”

Robert surged up and kissed his wife. Wrapping her in his arms she pressed her against the door to her chambers. His lips then began to descend upon her neck as he grew hard at the mere taste of her. 

“Not here,” she whispered. “Robert…”

He picked her up and carried her to her bed, closing the door behind them, slamming it really, with his foot as he pushed her skirts up her hips as he finally found his hands on her hips, grinding them against his own, feeling her hot against him as she moaned. 

He didn’t know how he got her to her bed, but he did. Robert tore off her dress before burying his face between her thighs, licking at her and drinking from her until she was crying out and trembling. Her rutted painfully against the bed as he tried to keep his promise, coherent enough to remember his word to her. Her fist was in his hair, grinding his face against her core. 

Then, he was on his back and Celia was climbing down him, straddling his hips until he was inside her. She was so right, so warm and wet and his brain went blank as she began to ride him. 

Robert thrust up into her wildly, gripping her hips and slamming into her with each of Celia’s downward strokes. 

It felt like it was over as soon as it had begun and he was spilling inside her and she was slumped over, her hands on his chest. She slid off him and Robert pulled her to him, burying his face in her hair. 

He felt her trembling and heard her sniff. 

“Don’t cry,” he begged. “Celia, please don’t cry…”

Everything faded into darkness. 

—

Robert watched as his wife smiled up at Ser Jaime. It was an easy smile that seemed almost second nature when his wife was around the Lannister knight. 

His stomach twisted as she squeezed the other man’s arm and laughed at whatever he had said. He wanted to go and tear the two apart, snarling at the knight and begging his wife to show him even an ounce of such affection. 

However, he held himself back. He had embarrassed himself enough before his wife already. 

—

“Are you in love with Ser Jaime?”

His wife paused from her writing and looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“Are you in love with Ser Jaime,” he said more slowly. 

“Are you in love with Lady Cersei?”

Robert’s hands tightened into fists. “What does she have to do with it?”

“I do not ask about your affairs, you need not ask me about mine.”

“You are my wife,” he growled. 

She glared up at him and stood. “I am well aware of that, believe it or not. Unlike you, I take the vows we exchanged before the Seven Kingdoms seriously. I have allowed no other man in my bed or given them anything I have shared with you alone. I have accepted your ridicule and your disinterest. I have held your shame and contempt for me better than any wife should have to. It is one thing for you to do as you will when you are a lord of a single keep, or even a warden to a certain kingdom. It is quite another when you are the king and your behavior is for all the realm to see.”

“You are speaking in circles!” Robert shouted, feeling the same sinking feeling of when Cersei touched him and the same twisting in his stomach as when he saw Celia with Ser Jaime. “Do you love him?”

“I care for him and he is one of my greatest friends in this keep. I do not love him, but is it so wrong for me to find some comfort when I know you care so little for me—”

“I _do_ care! I love—”

“Get out!” Celia shouted and Robert stepped back by the force of her words. 

“Celia—”

“No! I will not have you make such a declaration when you do not mean it! I will not have you use those words against me. I shall not.”

“Celia, please—”

His wife picked up a stack of blank papers and threw them at him. “Get out!”

Robert did as he was asked and left the room closing the door behind him, the sound of her crying echoing across his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, jealous!Robert makes an appearance multiple times here. 
> 
> Semi-drunk anger sex between our main leads.
> 
> And Robert beings out the L-word, but Celia doesn’t want to hear it. 
> 
> Aaaaaaaaaaand Cersei makes an announcement next chapter 😬


	23. Celia XII

Celia sat back in her chair and allowed herself to cry. A sob wanted desperately to escape her throat, but she would not allow it. She would not allow herself to show the pain of her heart so easily. The near confession of her husband resounded in her mind and her heart ached at the word he almost uttered. 

_ Love. _

Love of that nature was not meant for her.

She would have love from her children. Love from her sisters. Love from her father. Love from her uncle. Love from her friends. Love from her people. That was all she would be allowed. 

Celia wiped the tears from her eyes and allowed herself another moment to breath. 

She shouldn’t have slept with Robert the night he had come to her bed drunk. She should have had more control over herself. She shouldn’t have let her want of intimacy, her want of something that Robert would never give her. 

She had thought, perhaps, that he could. The way he had pulled her to him, burying his face in her neck as she cried in the complete emptiness of their act of intimacy. She thought perhaps they could have more when he asked that she not cry, but then he had passed out from the drink he had consumed and what little fulfilment she had in taking control, in being in power, was lost completely. 

Robert came to her out of duty and necessity. He needed an heir and she was the one the gods had decided to be that broodmare. He did not love her. He did not. 

His near confession was nothing but a way to appease her, a way to end her anger and perhaps to wet his cock while Lady Cersei was busy with something or another. Robert did not love her and he never would. 

She would never love him either. She refused. Celia refused to allow herself the hope of such feelings to be returned, for such longing to remain with her forever. She had been so ready to love her husband, so ready to fulfill the duties asked of her. So ready to wipe the memory of the Mad King from her mind, but she was nothing more than the wife of a man who never once tried to want her. First Lyanna and now it was Cersei. 

Although Celia did not truly believe that Robert loved his mistress, it did not change the fact that he did not send her away when Celia asked. 

Logically, she understood why. House Lannister was paying much of the debt that the Mad King had accumulated as well as well as the necessary repairs after the sack and whatever was needed to build a new dynasty from a now dead one. Sending Cersei away when her maidenhead had been taken would be the greatest dishonor to Lord Tywin and any support he might have offered previously would be gone and the crown would need to pay him for wounded pride and a ruined daughter, no man wanted to truly touch a king’s cast offs. 

Celia allowed her mind to think logically as her tears began to subside. She wiped their remanence from her eyes and cheeks and returned her focus on her documents. She stood once more and picked up the blank pages that she had thrown at her husband and organized them. She sat down and began to work on her draft of a plan to expand the schools to surrounding areas. 

She would be respected if she couldn’t be loved.

—

She spoke little to her husband in the coming month, even ignoring the maester and his dates for conception of an heir. She did not wish to risk herself being humiliated by her husband’s words or actions. Celia kept the appearance of the perfect wife and queen before her people and their council, but she remained distant from her husband when it came to their private lives.

When Celia had first come to King’s Landing as a girl, so full of ideals and dreams, she had been confused about Queen Rhaella’s distant unhappiness that seemed to settle in the woman’s bones. While King Aerys had not appeared, in any way, to be the perfect husband, surely the queen had some happiness. She had asked the queen once, in the quietness of the evening as Celia read to the queen and princess from a story, she couldn’t remember which one now, but it had a sad ending. She had asked why the queens in history never seemed to have a happy end. 

Queen Rhaella had simply smiled and said, “Happiness is the one thing we queens can never have.”

Now, Celia understood part of that to be true. 

However, she would find happiness where she could. 

Sansa’s first nameday would be arriving soon and Mya’s but two months before that. 

As the first child born to the Baratheon dynasty, Sansa’s nameday would be a quite lavish affair. Although there would be no tourney, there would be a feast and a ball with a fair for the smallfolk of King’s Landing. It would take time to plan such things, but there was four months to prepare and Celia had every intention of using her time wisely. 

The little dress she would make for Sansa on that day would come last. It would be a golden yellow dress with blue embroidery of stags. The mere thought of it made Celia smile. A true little princess. They would write songs about her daughter one day and the bells would ring for her little princess, her precious little babe. 

Celia also needed to make a nameday dress for Mya. Although the girl would not have a grand feast or party, Celia planned for the girl’s birth to be celebrated, even inviting her mother, Alayna, to the capital for the event. 

While Celia felt some twisting unease at the thought of inviting a past mistress of her husband’s to the Red Keep, setting a precedent of how a royal bastard and their mother would be treated. While Celia found Mya an absolute joy, she needed to show a separation of the two daughters of the king to the people. There would be no fanfare for Alayna, but it was all that Celia could do. 

She needed to protect her daughter. She needed to keep her daughter’s position safe. Sansa was the only person she was able to truly protect when she had been unable to save so many. 

—

The party for Mya’s sixth nameday was held in Robert’s solar with Mya sitting in her father’s chair happily as she stuffed a chocolate square into her mouth. Those in attendance were Celia, Robert, Jaime, Alayna, and Sansa. It was small and cozy. Celia almost contemplated having two parties for Sansa, one similar and just as private as this one so she could have her daughter almost completely to herself as Alayna seemed to. 

Mya’s gifts were simple and practical. The girl was wearing Celia’s gift, a lovely black dress gold embroidery of a stag. Although it signified her bastard status, Celia thought it looked lovely and a yellow dress would have shown stains much more easily as well. Alayna had given a beautiful quilt and Mya had hugged it closely, grinning from ear to ear. Robert had gotten her a wooden sword, much to Alayna and Celia’s chagrin. She would only be allowed to use it when an adult was present. Jaime had even gotten the girl a gift, a copper bracelet of daisies. He had merely shrugged and said every girl needs a pretty bracelet. Mya had lost interest in the thing rather quickly, focusing on her toy sword, but Alayna had thanked the knight profusely. 

“Your grace,” Alayna said as Mya was busy showing Sansa her presents as Celia’s daughter sat in Robert’s lap. “Could we take a turn around the room. I find I need to stretch my legs.”

Celia frowned for a moment before nodding, standing with the woman and they began to walk around the room. They did not link arms as Celia might have done with Ashara or her sisters, but they walked together nonetheless. 

“Your grace,” Alayna began. “May I be frank?”

Celia blinked before narrowing her eyes. “I suppose…”

“I have known Robert for a long time. I met him when we were children and I have been able to see the man he’s become.” Alayna paused for a moment. “However, for all his bravado, he’s still got a long way to go. In truth, I don’t think he quite understands women and needs to be spoken to directly.” Alayna stopped in her walking and turned to look at Celia and she stopped as well. “I won’t claim to know what your marriage is like or how you lords and ladies, much less kings and queens, do things. However, if you want your relationship with Robert to improve in whatever way you wish, the best thing to do is speak to him directly.”

Celia looked at the woman in shock and was unsure of how to respond. The last time someone had tried to give advice in her marriage and it had been from Cersei. 

Alayna seemed to read Celia’s expression. “I have no interest in Robert,” the woman said. “I lost interest rather quickly after we were together for… about a week, I think. I will always love him to an extent because he gave me Mya and he’s a wonderful father to her, but that is about it. I honestly find him annoying and dense and clueless many times.”

Celia’s eyes widened. She… hadn’t expected the other woman to speak so disparagingly about the king. 

Alayna laughed. “I know what I said might shock you, but, to be honest, I would prefer a man more like Ser Jaime.” She waved her hand. “But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, talk to him. If you want your relationship and partnership to improve, talk to him.”

—

It had been three days since Mya’s nameday party and Alayna had already begun her journey back to the Vale. Celia thought of and contemplated Alayna’s advice. What was the worst that could happen. 

So, Celia took courage and extended an offer for her husband to break his fast with her in her solar. When Robert came, he was smiling at her brightly and Celia found herself smiling too. Perhaps they could continue forward on a better foot. Perhaps they would not have the same marriage her own parents had, but perhaps they could be friends and partners in raising their children together. Perhaps he could be a confidant.

Perhaps, if she was direct in her wish to push Cersei further away or even more direct in what she wanted from a marriage, things would begin to get better. Perhaps the emptiness would go away. They began to eat and talk about their coming day and the plans for Sansa’s nameday feast. Everything was going smoothly. Everything felt at ease. 

It felt right. 

“Robert,” Celia began, ready to speak to him. Ready to be direct in her wishes. 

“Yes, my queen?”

She opened her mouth to continue when a knock came to her solar. They both glanced at the door. Their schedules hadn’t officially started yet, no one should be in need of them quite yet. 

“Who is it?” Robert asked, his voice a little gruff. 

“Lord Varys, your grace,” the Master of Whispers’ smooth voice came from the other side of the door. 

“Come in,” Celia said, glancing at her husband in concern and found her expression matched in his own. 

Lord Varys entered the room and bowed to both of them. “My king, a matter most urgent has come to my attention and you were not in your own solar.” He glanced at Celia in concern as though this matter did not concern her. “Perhaps we could…”

“Speak freely, Lord Varys,” Robert said. “My wife is the queen and whatever this matter is, I have faith in her abilities to help.”

Celia smiled at her husband and then returned her gaze to the Spider, who grimaced. 

“Yes, your grace,” he said, nodding his head. “It has been confirmed that Lady Cersei is pregnant and she claims you to be the father.”

Celia’s heart dropped down into her stomach and the murk of uneasiness swirled in her stomach. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the angst.   
> ALL. OF. IT.


	24. Robert XII

Word was sent from Casterly Rock that Tywin Lannister would be arriving at the Red Keep within a fortnight. 

Robert did little to prepare, trying desperately to rectify whatever he could with his wife as she began to withdraw from him now more than ever. She claimed it was for Sansa’s nameday preparations, but he knew she had finished enough that she need not worry until the day drew closer. He could not even go to her bed or call her to his own on the days suggested by Maester Pycelle he was so ashamed. 

Even if the child Cersei was carrying was not his own, but who else could it have been, Robert was still the king and the lord of the keep Lady Cersei was living in. It was Robert’s responsibility to compensate for what happened. Robert’s good father had attempted the same thing when Lyanna had been taken, but Robert had brushed it aside, the only important thing at the time being that they found her. Even after, he did not ask Lord Hoster to compensate, neither did Ned. However, Lord Tywin would not be so kind. 

The Old Lion was ruthless. Robert could remember the stories his father had told him of his oldest friend and could also remember the fracturing of the Lannister’s relationship with the Mad King. Tywin was a maker of kings and the destroyer of dynasties. He thought of Elia’s body wrapped in Lannister red alongside her children. His stomach twisted painfully as he worried what the Old Lion would ask of him.

The Mad King had accumulated a lot of debt during his reign. There were the wars and then there was the search for a Valyrian bride, the same search that had eventually led to the death of Robert’s parents. The crown, much less one of a recently named king of a new dynasty, could not pay the Iron Bank back easily without raising the taxes of the people, something Robert knew wouldn’t be a good way to start his reign. House Lannister had promised to help pay the debt. 

Robert closed his eyes and realized that it might have been because Lord Tywin assumed that Robert would marry Cersei. There had been some talk of her marrying Rhaegar before the Mad King brushed it off. Perhaps Cersei had been an option that Robert had not contemplated. Jon had suggested Celia, the daughter of one of the main houses leading the rebellion and a house then connected to the Vale and the North. It was a politically wise move, Robert knew. He had accepted the suggestion then without much thought, still lost in the memory and death of Lyanna. 

But now…

But now. 

He has put her and their daughter at risk. Whatever Tywin was planning, Robert knew that his wife and Sansa’s positions at court may become compromised. He needed to protect them. He needed to protect his family. 

A dragon had been the destruction of his parents and the future he had planned with Lyanna. He would not allow a lion to take anything else from him. 

He was the fury and a king more storm than land. He would not let the happiness he had finally grasped for himself be taken away. 

—

He had fought with Lady Cersei. She had once again come to his solar and sought to pleasure him, but, with a growl that would frighten even a dragon, he reminded her of her supposed delicate position and how he would not even touch his wife in fear of hurting her. He goaded her and asked if she wished to be a whore that worked herself even when she should be resting. 

That had made her leave with a sneer and Robert relaxed a bit when she left. 

“Get me Lord Varys,” he told one of his guards. Robert stood and waited upon the balcony of his solar and turned only when he heard someone step outside with him. “Lord Varys.” 

“Yes, your grace,” the eunuch said with a bow. 

“Do you know what Lord Tywin might be planning?”

“I have an idea, your grace. Chaos so soon at the start of your reign will be troublesome, especially should Cersei continue to claim the child is yours.” 

“You believe it is only a claim?” 

“She can say as she wishes, however, there is a known match between House Baratheon and Lannister,” Lord Varys inclined his head. “Although they bore no living children, they all had the Baratheon look. Mya and the princess both sport the Baratheon look and there is, of course, the marriages between the Targaryens and the Baratheons. Children of those matches also had black hair and blue eyes. If Cersei’s child does not have black hair, it can be argued that such a child could not possibly be yours.”   
“And if such a thing happens?”

“When Lord Tywin comes, remind him that he is not the king and that his only heir is his youngest son, Tyrion.”

Robert nodded. “I also wish for you to help Celia’s idea for the expansion of schools to continue. Send word to the Citadel of their progress and suggest it may be a way for the Faith to grow and for them to have help in their research on medicine and so forth.” 

“Might I suggest another thing, your grace?” 

“Of course.” 

“Invite Prince Oberyn to come to the capital before he leaves to find the Targaryen children. The queen and Princess Elia were close friends and I know that she was also close with the Dornish prince. The Lannisters made no ally with the Martells with the death of the princess and fewer still with the death of the children. Should the Martells show their support with the queen, it will remind the people that the Lannisters are a danger to women who should be protected by their name and children, especially daughters, who do not have a proper claim and who should have been left alive. Ghosts are a powerful thing, your grace. We cannot bring back the dead, but we can use them to our advantage.”   
Robert nodded. “Do as you suggested.” As Lord Varys began to leave, Robert stopped him. “My lord, another thing.” The eunuch turned to him. “Send in my brother Stannis.” 

—

Robert and Celia greeted Lord Tywin upon his arrival. He made sure to have his clothes match his wife’s even having his doublet be a dark Tully blue instead of the Baratheon black. It was a small greeting party and Robert could tell by the look in the Old Lion’s gaze that he had assumed there would be more people present. However, it was obvious that he was surprised to see Ser Jaime there, standing behind the queen as her constant companion. A fracture within House Lannister evident. 

“Your grace,” Lord Tywin said with a bow. “Shall I follow you to your solar so we can begin discussions?”

“I’m afraid that I cannot join you right away,” Robert said, plainly. Celia glanced at him in slight confusion, but he placed a hand over hers. “My wife and I were in the midst of discussing my brother when we heard of your arrival. I beg your pardon, my lord, but such a talk needs to be finished before I can be bothered to properly speak with you.” He nodded at Ser Jaime. “I shall have your son take you to your rooms where you can rest. I shall call for you when I am able to see you. Good day, my lord.” Robert led his wife away. 

“What are you doing?” she whispered with a slight hiss. 

“I am showing my power as king.” 

She looked at him in more confusion. “Are we truly to speak about your brother?” 

“Yes, I believe it is time that Stannis be given a new title,” he said. “Temporary, of course, but a new title nonetheless.” 

“And what title is that, your grace?”

“Prince of Dragonstone.” 

—

“Come in,” Robert called as he finished drafting the change of title to send to the Citadel. 

He had already talked it over with Stannis. Although his brother had been shocked, there seemed to be a shift in his attitude that Robert hadn’t even realized had taken place after the rebellion. It felt more at ease with him and Robert realized that Stannis might not have realized his reasoning for naming him Lord of Dragonstone. Now, though, the Baratheon brothers were together as a united front, claiming three great keeps of their own with the possibility of more unity within the kingdom. He had sent another letter to the Vale suggesting a marriage between Lady Mina Tyrell and Stannis and then a possible marriage between Lady Allyria Dayne and Renly. The latter was more tentative, however, it would make the Baratheon and Tully alliance with the other kingdoms more complete with the Lannisters being purposefully excluded. 

He set down his quill and looked up at Lord Tywin, who attempted to keep his annoyance hidden, although Robert could see the tick in his jaw. 

“Please, sit, my lord. I know there are things you need to discuss with me.” 

Lord Tywin sat, sitting like a king, but it also meant he was not utterly comfortable in the fact that he was made to wait and then made to come to Robert instead of the other way around. “Yes, your grace. I am here to speak of the situation you have placed my daughter in.” 

Robert nodded. “And that is where I shall stop you. We do not need to speak much on it as your daughter made it perfectly clear to the entire keep who she claims is the father of her child.”

“ _ Claim _ ?” Lord Tywin sneered. “Do you  _ claim  _ that my daughter is lying?”

“I claim nothing, I am merely protecting my family from those who could be pretenders. You of all people must understand my concern, my lord. You fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings and know fullwell the chaos a pretender can bring. I am merely being cautious. However, I know that you are surely more concerned with your daughter’s reputation more than anything else.”

“Just so,” the Old Lion said. “And I ask what you intend to do to make it right. The Citadel would never allow for you to annul your marriage to the Tully girl since she has given you a child so soon into your marriage, however it is not unheard of for kings to take on official mistresses, especially considering she has yet to give you an heir.” 

“I shall stop you again, my lord,” Robert said standing. “That  _ Tully girl _ , as you called her, is my wife and your queen and I demand you give her the proper respect as is her right. I will also not take an official mistress as I do not wish to diminish my wife or daughter’s place within the Red Keep and do not want to piss off the North, the Vale, or the Riverlands.” He gave a smile. “I believe that is three kingdoms to your one. Five if you include the Stormlands and the Crownlands. My brothers are quite fond of their good sister.” Especially Stannis at this point. “We shall wait and see if Lady Cersei’s lover or I are the father, however I will not send her away and that would only fuel rumors and she is one of my wife’s court ladies and technically under our protection, not yours. Either way, I shall have the child fostered here, whether that be with his mother or not is entirely up to my wife. If it is a girl, I shall have her married to one of Doran’s sons as your lady wife and Princess Myria meant for Ser Jaime and Lady Cersei with Princess Elia and Prince Oberyn. If it is a boy, I will allow him to be legitimized as a Lannister and he can be the heir to Casterly Rock above your current heir and, again, he will be a ward to the crown, only he shall be sent to the Reach where he will be raised amongst the Tyrells with a betrothal between him and one of the future girls I have no doubt will bloom within Highgarden.” 

“You seem to have thought this through, your grace,” Lord Tywin said standing. 

Robert straightened to his full height and looked down at the Old Lion. “It helps that I have made no enemies of late, Lord Tywin,” he said carefully. “I shall remind you of all the ones you have made and are making now. I was a stormlord before I was the king, my lord. I would always advise to be wary when it rains in a storm. Especially in the Westerlands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert begins playing the Game of Thrones, but not for himself.
> 
> Stannis is more officially Robert’s heir until Celia gives him a son. 
> 
> Tywin no longer has the upper hand.


	25. Celia XIII

Celia shifted Sansa just a bit higher in her arms as they watched the approaching party from Dorne. Shae stood behind her with Mya while Lysa stood on Celia’s side. Robert stood next to her directly. She had noticed, recently, that Robert had been wearing more Tully colors or, at least, clothes that more closely resembled what Celia was wearing and she wondered if he had planned for such things or if it were merely a coincidence. 

Many watched the carriage approach the steps of the Red Keep, Celia, however, kept an eye on the horses and their riders and, sure enough, one rider dismounted and walked with the same amount of confidence and swagger that Celia remembered him having. 

Oberyn Martell was just as handsome as when she had last seen him, which, in truth, had only been less than a year as he had been in King’s Landing for Sansa’s birth.

The Dornish prince bowed to Robert and then to Celia, his eyes alight with mischief as he spotted Sansa. 

“She has grown since I last saw her,” Oberyn said, giving her his lopsided smile. “Can this really be little princess Sansa?” Celia’s daughter perked up at the sound of her name and giggled when she saw Oberyn smiling at her. “I believe I have charmed yet another girl with my appearance. Much like her mother, no?”

Celia felt her cheeks heat ever so slightly. When she had first met the prince, she had been so enamored with him and Elia and Ashara had noticed it rather quickly. Her two friends had giggled about it and Elia had encouraged her to write to Oberyn, only warning that his eyes were always wandering. Celia wondered what it was that drew her to such men. 

Regardless, she had at least gained a friend, and a quite powerful one, in the process of her girlish dreams of romance. 

“I believe you are much too old for her,” Celia said, trying to keep her expression kind, holding back a smirk at Oberyn’s affronted look. 

“I am still quite young.”

“You are older than me.”

Oberyn shook his head and glanced at Robert. “I do not pity you. I would gladly handle such wit and tongue if it were to come from a woman as beautiful as the queen.”

Celia rolled her eyes. “I believe you need rest, Prince Oberyn,” she said. “I have no doubt you wish to inform me of the daughters you spoke of last you were here.”

“But of course. They are quite adorable. They are far too young to bring on such a journey, but perhaps next time.”

Celia nodded and Robert guided her and Sansa back to the Red Keep. With Oberyn following beside them. 

—

“I still miss her,” Celia said quietly as she and Oberyn walked the gardens. “I still sometimes think I will see her again if I just turn the right corner. I feel as though I will see both of them.” She looked at him. “I cannot imagine what it must be like for you.”

“Elia was my rock and I feel adrift without her,” he admitted, all the bravado of earlier gone. This was her Oberyn, at least only hers until he settled down a bit. He was a quiet soul at times, especially when his thoughts turned to Elia. Part of Celia worried for him as she could only guess that his facade was to comfort his older brother and to not have him worry too much. “I miss her as I would miss air. Just as there is no word to describe a parent who has lost a child, there is no word to describe one who has lost a sibling.”

Celia put her hand on his arm and squeezed slightly. He put his hand over hers and squeezed as well. “She would be proud of what you are doing. I know it.”

Celia smiled. “I feel as though I’m taking the place where she should be. I want to make her proud more than anything.”

“Celia, if there’s one thing my sister would want is for you to not live with ghosts. Ashara wouldn’t want it either.”

She sighed. “I know. It’s just…”

“The Lannisters?”

“Not Jaime,” Celia corrected. “I don’t think I could do this without him.”

Oberyn nodded. “We’ve heard the news of it in Dorne. My brother was none too pleased about such things. I was told to inform you that you have Dorne, should you need us. There is no way any of us would back a Lannister and I am sure the North, the Vale, and the Riverlands would back none but you.”

“It means nothing if I cannot have the respect of my husband.”

“Is that what you want? His respect?”

Celia bit her lip. “Is it so wrong to want his love as well?”

“There is nothing wrong with it,” Oberyn said. “It’s natural, I think. Elia wanted the same from Rhaegar, even if their match had been a political one, much like yours.”

“How do I earn it?”

Oberyn shook his head. “It is not about you earning his,” he replied. “It is about him earning yours.”

—

It was one of the nights Maester Pycelle had suggested would lead to a better chance at a child. That was the only reason she was in his bed. The only reason. 

“Robert,” Celia’s breath left her as he thrust into her. 

She dug her nails into his back and fisted after his hair as he set the brutal pace of his thrusts, as hard and fast as her own beating heart. Her other hand fisted his hair as he sucked on the pulse of her neck. Her legs were trembling around his waist. So much. So big and she felt like she was going to split open. 

Then, his hand went between them and she felt his calloused thumb press against her and she opened her mouth to let out a silent scream as she came apart around him, falling and sinking into the heaviness of her release. 

Robert thrust a few more times before sheathing himself inside her and spilling. He stayed inside her this time, pulling them both so he was on her back and she was atop him. 

Celia tried to catch her breath as she rested her head against her husband’s chest. She could hear his heart pound against her ear and she closed her eyes to listen, to pretend it meant something. 

As her breath began to even out, Celia slid off her husband, feeling cold and empty their bodies separated and she felt some of his seed slide down her thighs. She felt hollow. She wanted more than this, wanted more than just a quick and blind coupling to make an heir. She wanted so much more.

She slipped from the bed and began to gather her clothes when she heard the bed creak and Robert came up behind her. Celia paused and felt him press against her, his cock twitching slightly as he buried his face in her neck. 

“Stay,” he asked softly. “We… I…” his arms came around her and he held her tightly. 

Celia looked up and could see their reflection in the mirror. He was massive behind her. His hair was the color of midnight against her pale skin and red hair. The moon shone upon them through the windows and they looked almost ethereal. Like the Warrior and the Maiden carved into marble. 

Celia turned in her husband’s embrace and cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his. 

It was as though he were a string that had been pulled far too tight and then slowly loosened. Robert melted into the kiss, holding her to him as though she were the most precious thing in the world and Celia desperately wanted to believe it. 

—

“Celia!” Lysa called, bursting into the room. 

Jaime, who had been nodding off slightly against the wall of Celia’s chambers became alert in an instant, although he also cracked his head against the wall. Celia winced at his expense as he began to rub the back of his head. 

“What is it Lysa?” she asked. 

“Father is coming!” she said.

“Of course he is,” Celia said in confusion. “He said he would come for Sansa’s nameday.”

“But did he tell you Uncle Brynden was coming?!”

“He’s what?!”

Celia took the letter her sister was holding and read it quickly. And froze when she saw her uncle’s name. 

_ I fear I must warn you that your Uncle Brynden is coming. While I am none too pleased with your good brother, I will try to remain civil and will attempt to keep your brother in check. However, I have no such control over your uncle. Based on our last correspondence, I fear he may challenge the king to a duel and, although Robert is a strong man, I know my brother is far more ruthless when it comes to you girls.  _

_ It would be wise to inform your sister for I fear greatly she might become a widow not long before Sansa turns one.  _

_ Your father _

“Shit,” Celia muttered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oberyn is the actual best and a big brother when Celia needs one.
> 
> Oberyn being like “nah, he’s the one that needs to make this right.”
> 
> Celia and Robert have sex and at least it’s not a one and done like usual.
> 
> And Brynden is coming.


	26. Robert XIII

Robert stood nervously as the Tully party made their way towards the Red Keep. Celia stood beside him and that offered some comfort, but he knew he could not hide behind his wife to weather the fury of his good father or her uncle. It wasn’t a kingly thing to do and he understood, full well, that he had earned their ire on his own. He had no right to hide behind her. 

Even so, having his wife and daughters so close made him feel, at least a little, calm.

Celia was radiant beside him, wearing a sea blue dress with golden yellow embroidery at the hem. She looked like a proper queen that history would remember forever. The mother of the Baratheon dynasty. History, Robert believed, would look at his wife much more kindly than they would him. It was only right. 

If Robert were braver, he would show her his affection in public. He would kiss her lips at every greeting and lean over to kiss the top of her head as they waited for her family’s arrival. However, he was unsure if he could take a rejection of such affection. She had not wished for him to express his love to her verbally, to not use words that all girls wished to hear. He did not wish to stain such a confession in the bitterness of his betrayal or in the wallowing of their shared pain. Yet he was not allowed to show her much affection unless it were the nights that Maester Pycelle had suggested. 

He wanted more, but he knew very well he did not deserve it. 

She deserved more, and Robert desperately wished he could be the man to give it to her. 

When the male members of House Tully stood before him, Robert bowed his head respectfully. As a king, he bowed to no one but the gods, however, these men were his wife’s family, they deserved more respect than just a simple greeting. 

“Welcome to King’s Landing, my lords,” Robert said. 

“Your grace,” Lord Hoster said stiffly before turning to look at his daughter. The Riverlord smiled and went to the queen, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he hugged her. “You are as lovely as ever my dear.”

“And you ever more handsome, Father,” Celia said kindly; kissing her father’s cheek as well. 

“And here is my little Sansa,” Lord Hoster said. “My first little granddaughter.” Robert’s daughter giggled as she gripped her grandfather’s beard. “Since you are the only one, I can confidently say you are my favorite.”

Celia rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. 

Robert could feel the heated glare and could see that they came from his good brother.

Edmure Tully looked at him with such open disdain that some might even call it treasonous, although any who knew of the situation, and many did, would not blame the young lord for looking at his sister’s husband so.

Ser Brynden was ignoring him completely, preferring to greet Celia instead and dote upon his grandniece along with his brother. 

—

Robert expected it, but he had hoped it would not happen the day he had been working since sunrise to have more of the tourney for Sansa’s first nameday with Celia, who had gotten up at the normal hour to help as well. He had been hoping to crawl back to his bed and lock the door to sleep for a good hour or so before getting up to continue his work as king. But just as he was finished with the paperwork of allotting the funds for the prize money, Ser Breynden came to him demanding that the two spar. 

Robert had no real right to refuse the knight without making him look foolish or disrespectful. 

“Uncle,” Celia said gently. “The king has a few things he needs to do. Perhaps tomorrow?”

“You may be the queen, lass, but you’re still my niece,” the Blackfish said. “The king and I are men of the steel and must trade words as blows.”

“It’s alright, Celia,” he said. “I can hold off for however long this will take. I’ve already got a tongue lashing from your brother.” Her brother had said things that had felt like they ripped his soul in two. At least his body’s stare would reflect his heart’s. 

She frowned at him. 

“It won’t take that long,” Ser Brynden said with a glare. 

Robert followed the Blackfish to the training yard, his bones feeling like lead as his skin felt like it was melting off them. He was so exhausted. Emotionally and mentally. Cersei had also attempted to speak to him that day, but he said he had nothing to say to her save that she would be sent back to Casterly Rock after the birth and the child would be none of her concern if it was proven that the child was his. She had screamed at him, at his heartlessness, but at least Ser Jaime had arrived and escorted his sister back to her rooms on the other side of the keep. 

He pulled out his practice sword from the rack. He preferred the hammer, but he couldn’t exactly lift it considering his current condition and the spar would be live steel anyway with very little armor. 

The match was over rather quickly. The Blackfish had years of experience that Robert lacked and a good night sleep as well. 

Robert was on the ground in ten minutes with a sword to his throat. 

“Uncle,” Celia shouted. “That is enough!”

“I should have demanded a match from you from the start,” Brynden sneered. “I would have never let a weak let her like you touch my niece.”

Robert held his hand to stop the kingsguard from stepping forward or drawing their swords. Gods, he was exhausted. “You have beaten me,” Robert said. “I’m afraid, though, I cannot let my wife go at this point, nor do I wish to.” He staggered up, his head feeling light and he felt something wet against his cheek. He touched his fingers to the skin and found he was bleeding. He sighed. “I shall be on my way then.”

Robert was so exhausted. He did not even notice Celia following behind him until she wrapped her arms around his own and helped lead him back to his rooms. 

—

Celia sat Robert on his bed and began to clean the wound on his cheek. 

“You need not worry for it,” he said softly. “I can call for a maester.”

“My uncle did this and I intend to mend it,” she replied. 

“It is a well deserved wound,” Robert said. “You need not worry yourself.”

She sighed and went to get a needle and thread. “It is not so bad that we need to bother the maester for it.” She returned and began to see the cut closed. “It needs only four stitches. I do not think it will scar.”

“If it does, I shall wear it as much as I wear the others.”

He watched her as she worked, the needle not coming anywhere near his eye to cause him to blink. She was just as beautiful as the day they first met, although he doubted she remembered it. The moment had been brief, but he had thought her to be pretty, nearer to beautiful than Lyanna had ever been, upon their introduction. Perhaps his memories were changing things now that he knew this woman he called his wife, but it was how he remembered things now. Some days he wished he could go back and tell his younger self that it would one day be her, that it was always going to be her. 

But he had been a fool and had lost all right to her. He had taken so much for granted. And now he knew that there had been another that her heart had once longed for, as he had once longed for Lyanna. 

“Had you loved Ser Arthur Dayne?” Robert asked as Celia put the needle and thread away. 

His wife froze. “Why do you ask?”

“Your brother mentioned it. He was with Sansa and Ser Jaime and he said that you had always been able to catch the eye of the kingsguard.” He watched her for a moment. “Did you love him?”

“I admired him,” Celia said. “I do not know if I would call it love, but I often wondered what it would have been like had we met before he had taken his vows.”

“I’m sorry that you lost him.”

Celia shook her head, returning to him. “He chose Rhaegar over me, over our friendship with Princess Elia. I was not worth his duty or supposed honor. It is my lot in life, I suppose. To not be chosen, to not be first.”

Robert knew she counted him amongst those. He knew he could not go to the past and make her his first, but he could do his best to make sure she is his last and only for the rest of his days. 

“Rest well, Robert,” she said. 

He took her hand in his and held it tightly. “Do you have anything on your schedule?”

“Not until after midday,” she replied. “Why?”

“Could you stay with me. You don’t have to stay the entire time, just… I am so tired, Celia. Please, let me hold you until I fall asleep.” He shook his head. “At least your hand, please.”

Celia looked at him a little sadly before crawling into his head and opening her arms to him. Robert made no effort to hide his relief as he sank into her arms. His head rested upon her breast and soon he knew only her warmth and he drifted off into a more peaceful sleep than he had known in ages. 

—

“My daughter is too good for you,” Lord Hoster said as he entered Robert’s solar. 

“I know that, believe it or not,” the king replied. “I know I do not deserve her and I probably never will.” Not truly, anyway. 

Robert’s good father sat down across from him. “I wish I had refused Jon’s offer for Celia to marry you. I wish I had said  _ no _ .”

The comment hurt. He could not imagine his life without Celia, could not imagine living a day without seeing her face at least once, if not hearing her voice. 

“I understand,” Robert said softly. 

Lord Hoster cocked an eyebrow. “Ah, you do.”

“How can I make it right?”

“You can’t,” his good father replied. “You can only make it better.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tullys are here and not happy with Robert.
> 
> Brynden honestly could have gotten in a lot of trouble, but Robert is in enough self-loathing to let it pass anyway.
> 
> Celia indeed had a crush on Arthur and him choosing Rhaegar hurt. And she and Robert at least can find some comfort in one another. 
> 
> Hoster is correct. Sometimes all you can do is make things better.


	27. Celia XIV

She missed Cat. 

Celia understood full well why her eldest sister could not come to the Red Keep, but she missed her nonetheless. 

However, having the rest of House Tully in King’s Landing made Celia feel like a girl again, even though she was a woman grown and a mother now. It reminded her of her youth in Riverrun, before everything became so messy and blurred and confusing. 

She could remember running along the riverbanks with her sisters as Edmure tried to keep up. She could remember Cat brushing out her hair. She could remember her and Lysa snuggled in a shared bed during the colder months and her older sister telling her a frightening story. She could remember Petyr lecturing her on sums that she didn’t care for. She could remember her father dancing with her at feasts. She could remember her uncle kissing her scraped knees and making the stinging pain go away.

She relished in her family’s attention. So did Sansa. 

Her family doted on the girl and even shared such affection with Mya. 

The only thing that made Celia sad about her family’s arrival was the slight distance it made between her and Robert. It did not help that her family purposefully put as much distance between her and Robert as they possibly could. 

The incident in the training yard was somewhat repeated with Edmure, although it was much more obvious that Celia’s husband wasn’t trying to defend himself. 

It was as though he were trying to seek absolution for his wrongdoings by putting himself in situations where he might get hurt. Celia wanted to shake him at times, remind him that he is the king and the man who defeated Rhaegar Targaryen in battle. Yet, he looked so very lost. 

She wanted to go to him, wanted to hold him and to kiss away the lines of worry beginning to etch themselves in his face, but she held herself back. 

She wouldn’t allow herself to be burned. 

She wouldn’t. 

She couldn’t.

Not when she had her daughters to protect. 

—

“I have brought these for you, sweet sister,” Edmure said, holding out a small bouquet of roses. 

Celia’s stomach began to churn and she felt sick, but she forced a smile upon her lips and took them from him.

Her brother frowned. “You don’t like them?”

“They…” Celia centered herself. “They aren’t my favorites. I fear the smell makes me rather ill.”

Edmure looked at her in confusion. “You used to love roses.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I suppose I grew out of them.”

Her brother took the flowers from her hand and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then I shall get you daisies.”

Celia laughed. “Yes, daisies would be wonderful.” She watched as he set the flowers down. “Did you tell Robert about Ser Arthur Dayne?”

He looked like he had been caught in the kitchens before supper. “Do not be so angry with me.”

“I’m not. It’s just… those feelings were private. Nothing happened and it does not change anything now.”

Before her betrothal to Robert, before she married, Celia had often dreamed of what a life with Arthur would have been like. What it would have been like to raise a family at Starfall, to walk within the white halls and summer breeze. 

But, he had kept Ned from his sister. He had chosen Rhaegar over her, over all of them. He had chosen pride over honor. Over duty. Over family. 

“Even so, I apologize if I overstepped my bounds.”

Celia shook her head. “All is forgiven, little brother.” She took his hands in her own and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “I promise.”

—

She would blame it on the wine, she would, but she knew neither had enough of it to warrant the ease of falling into her husband’s bed. 

Robert was hard against her thigh as she burned at his touch. The calluses of his fingers scratched against her skin, a thrill running up her spine as she struggled with his trousers. She was already bare, Robert having torn her dress from her body and Celia yanking her shift off frantically as they stumbled in the darkness of his room until—

“Robert!” 

He was inside her. She clawed at his back as he pounded into her, filling her to the brim until she was coming apart around him. 

“Yes, yes.” 

“Celia,” he grunted her name, began chanting her name like a prayer. 

The headboard of the bed slammed against the wall and Celia fisted at Robert’s hair, navigating his mouth towards hers. She could taste the bitter wine upon his lips and she wondered if she tasted the same. His tongue explored his mouth as she felt the drag of his cock find a rhythm. 

It was so very hot. The smell of sweat and sex perfumed the air and Celia felt more drunk from it than the wine. 

Then, he was on his back and she was astride him. She lifted her hips and dropped back down, grinding against him as she pushed down against his chest. His hands squeezed at her hips she rode him. 

She watched as he threw his head back and let her name ring through the room as three drew closer and closer to their release. They fell apart together, cries of bliss and utter abandonment filled the air as she rested atop him. 

The last thing, besides the utter satisfaction and peace she felt, was the pads of his fingers tracing a pattern in her back. 

—

Celia dressed her daughter in Baratheon colors with touches of Tully blue in a ribbon tied in the girl’s hair. It had been a year since Sansa’s birth and Celia could hardly believe it. 

“Mama,” Sansa said, clapping her hands together. “Mamamamamamama.”

Celia laughed, peppering her daughter’s cheeks with kisses until she began to squeal with laughter. “That’s right, mama.”

Her daughter had been speaking more recently. It was mainly gibberish, but Celia loved listening to Sansa speak regardless. 

Robert has taken to bringing her to his solar when he was going through papers. Celia would check on them occasionally and found her husband reading the documents aloud to her and talking to her as though she spoke back. 

Celia straightened her daughter’s bow and licked her up. They would head to the feast.

Into the masses who wanted nothing more than to judge or flatter her. She would do her best. 

Family, duty, honor. 

It was an honor to do her duty to her family and Celia would not fail them. Would not fail  _ him _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. I’m packing up my house with my parents to move. 
> 
> Celia loving her family!
> 
> I was a little surprised that no one said anything about Arthur’s mention last chapter. 
> 
> Hehehe. They had sex on a day Pycelle didn’t suggest 😘
> 
> And Sansa is talking and Robert loves his kids and next chapter we’ll have more Robert contemplation!


	28. Robert XIV

Sansa was utterly adored by the people. She was by no means a shy child and waved at every lord and lady who came to pay their respects to the little princess, earning smiles and laughter from those she graced the gesture with. She began the greetings in Celia’s lap, but was transferred to Robert’s half way through. Her hand was firmly grasping his beard with one hand and her other fist was in her mouth, wiggling slightly and continuing to wave when a new person finished their greeting. 

Sansa had found her preferred word of  _ mama _ , but she said  _ dada _ upon occasion. It had taken everything in Robert to not cry before his daughter and hold her close when she called for him, fisting at his beard to gain his attention. He was to be his daughter’s rock and was to be strong. He would not cry before her. 

When it was time for the dancing to begin, Robert handed Sansa to Mya’s maid, Shae, before offering Celia his hand. His wife took it and Robert guided her to the center of the great hall. 

She was beautiful in her Baratheon yellow dress with veins of blue embroidery across her bodice and the red trim at the hem of her skirts. Having her in his arms reminded Robert of just how lucky he was and how little he deserved her. 

“I forgot that you are a competent dancer, your grace,” she said as they turned about the room. 

Robert smiled. “Only because you are an excellent partner. Although I fear that Sansa will be my favorite of the night.”

She smiled slightly at him. “I believe she shall be my favorite as well.” She cast her gaze downward for a moment before flicking her eyes up at him. “Will you dance with anyone else?”

“Your sister, perhaps, but I fear I might actually be castrated if I ask.”

“I do not think she would do such a thing in public.”

Robert smiled. “So she would do it in private?”

Celia blushed. “That’s not what I meant.”

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head as they continued to dance. “I shall expect you to come rescue me then, if the need should arise.”

Celia giggled ever so slightly. “Then I ask that you save me from my brother. Edmure is dear, but he has two left feet and fear that I shall not like walking after our dance together.”

Robert smiled at her. He wanted to kiss her lips, show the court that she was his and his alone, but he could not. He did not deserve her lips. The memory of her parted mouth slanted against his own as he rutted into her… his cock twitched slightly at the thought of it. 

He kissed her temple instead, holding her close as they continued about the room, for a moment in their own little world. 

—

As Robert toured the room to better greet the visiting lords and ladies, Celia danced with her family members, even dancing with Lysa as the two women giggled and laughed together, joined by other women who sought to give some of the men a short respite from dancing. 

As he did his duty of greeting, he could also hear the whispers of some people as he passed. 

_ When do you think the queen will be pregnant again? _

_ Her sister, Lady Stark has already had her second child.  _

_ When do you think we shall have an heir? _

_ Do you think the rumors are true that Lady Cersei’s child was aided by the king? If _

_ it is a boy, do you think that the king shall name the child his heir? _

_ A dance of stags, perhaps? _

_ The king has paid no mind to Lady Cersei, perhaps he is trying to dissuade the rumors? _

_ The queen is so generous to let one of her court ladies to remain in the capital during her pregnancy.  _

_ Of course she needs to.  _

_ The Mad King snubbed Lord Tywin when he didn’t betroth Prince Rhaegar to Lady Cersei and had him marry Princess Elia. _

_ Look what happened to her and the children.  _

_ The Old Lion wants a grandson on the throne.  _

_ Do you think he will stop if his daughter has a son herself? _

Robert’s stomach twisted. He glanced at Lord Varys and motioned for the Master of Whispers to follow him. “Have you heard anymore of a possible sire?”

“I have not, your grace,” the Spider admitted. “The Lannisters have always moved beyond my expectations or calculations. I will not say that they are wise, but they are always more ruthless than I expect them to be.”

Robert nodded. “Any word on the Targaryen siblings?”

“I believe I have heard word of them in Braavos. Prince Oberyn will be leaving tomorrow to search for them.” The man paused. “Do you still wish for Daenerys to be fostered here?”

Robert thought for a moment. “Yes. I’ve already discussed it with my wife and I believe having her shown to be favored by the beloved queen will show the girl more favor and will be less likely to be spoken ill of due to her father.”

“Yes, your grace.”

Robert nodded. “Keep me updated on the Lannisters. I do not trust them. Look into any of the lords or servants who have any connection to them.” Something did not sit eight with Robert and he did not know what it was. “Write to the Riverrun maester privately and learn more about the queen’s health.”

“Your grace?”

“I find it strange that Lady Cersei knew she was pregnant yet Maester Pycelle never informed me. Either she got the information elsewhere or the Red Keep’s maester is not in the pocket of the king.”

The Master of Whisper’s eyes narrowed. “I shall write to the Riverland maester at once and to the Citadel about any connection our own might have to the Lannisters.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Now, if you excuse me. I have a princess to dance with.”

—

Robert continued in his attempt to apologize to Celia for his past actions. Putting her pleasure in bed before his own was only a fraction of what he should be doing. He was attempting to allow her voice within the Small Council to be better heard and more valid. He was trying to set up her own council for education, since that seemed to be her preferred project, getting a maester from the Citadel to better help with the project. He showered their daughter with attention, praising her at every turn and showing the other lords and ladies that he favored Sansa as much as he would a son. 

Still, it did not feel enough. 

If he could spend an entire day groveling are his wife’s feet, kissing them and begging for her forgiveness, it still would not be enough. How he wanted to grovel, but it was not her pity he wanted. Robert wanted her forgiveness and love. He wanted to show that he had chosen her. That she might not have been his first, but she would be his last, his only for the rest of his life. 

“Have more roses sent to the queen’s chambers,” Robert said to his steward as he made his way down the hall. 

He heard a scoff and paused in his steps to look and found his wife’s brother crossing the hall behind him. 

“Is there something worthy of your disdain, good brother?” Robert asked. 

The riverlord scoffed again. “It should be fairly obvious,” he said. “Celia does not like roses.”

With that, Edmure went on his way as though nothing had been said and Robert was left dumbstruck. 

Celia did not like roses? But she had been so very pleased with them the first time, pressing her nose into the blooms and smiling shyly at him so pretty and… How was it possible that she did not like roses?

—

“My queen,” Robert said, nodding his head as he was allowed entrance into her solar. Shae was holding Mya’s hand, obviously about to take her leave to return to the nursery. A necklace of daisies around her neck. Perhaps it was daisies she preferred?

“My queen,” she said standing. “May I help you with something?”

“I heard something interesting from your brother and I wondered if there was any validity to it.”

Celia narrowed her eyes in confusion. “And what might that be?”

“He said that you do not like roses.”

Celia’s expression remained very still and Robert knew that she was about to lie. “I believe my brother is misinformed, it seems. I will right such a thing later.” She sat back at her desk. “If you excuse me, your grace, there is work to be done.”

Robert bowed his head at his wife’s dismissal and was surprised to find Shae and Mya were waiting out in the hall for him. 

“Might I speak plainly, your grace?” Shae asked. 

“If it pleases you,” Robert replies, unsure if he was up to being dressed down by a child. 

“The queen cannot stomach the smell of roses,” she said. “They make her nauseous.”

“She quite liked them the first time I gave them to her,” Robert said. 

“May I speak even more plainly, your grace?”

“I feel as though you are my superior at the moment, Shae. Speak freely.”

“You usually gave roses to the queen after your nights or visits from Lady Cersei. Such flowers, I believe, remind the queen of your  _ infidelity _ .” She said the last word slowly as though to either make a point of the word or to make sure she was pronouncing it correctly. “I would advise you not to send roses to the queen, not unless you wish to signify that you have,” she covered Mya’s ears, “slept with another woman.” Shae curtsied, uncovering Mya’s ears, and went on her way. Robert’s eldest daughter waving to him as they went, leaving the king alone, slack jawed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert learns something very important this chapter doesn’t he! 😘  
> Now, what is he going to do about it?


	29. Celia XV

“Why did you never get married, Uncle?” Celia asked as the Blackfish amused Sansa with a magic trick and tickles. “You have always been good with children. And I know many women find you handsome, even now.”

Her uncle sighed. “It was just not in the cards for me.”

“But you have always been so kind and sometimes a father to all of us, even Petyr, when we were children. Surely a marriage to you would be greatly sought after.”

“It was,” he replied. “Even now I get the occasional letter offering a young girl’s hand to mine.”

“Has no girl caught your fancy?”

“Aye,” the knight said. “No girl has.”

Celia narrowed her eyes and then blushed in understanding. “Uncle—”

“Your father already knows. I suppose that is more of the reason our relationship was strained, even before your mother came to Riverrun, but he loves me too much to push me aside or publicly condemn me for my preferences.”

“Has there been…”

“One,” Uncle Brynden replied. “He died during the Rebellion. He died bravely and that is all men like us can ask for. He died with honor and glory in a way that they will sing songs about. More so than if people knew the truth. My truth.”

Celia reached out and touched her uncle’s hand. “I am so sorry, Uncle,” she said. “I wish things could be different.”

“You find happiness where you can, lass,” he said, squeezing her hand. “It is not just men like us that need to.”

“I am happy, Uncle. I have my friends and my daughters.”

“You were always meant for more than that, Lass. You were meant to have your husband’s love as well. Out of all of you girl, you were always the kindest.”

“I sometimes feel I am rather selfish,” she answered. 

“It is not selfish to wish for love. Do you think I am selfish for finding happiness where I could?”

“Not at all,” Celia said quickly. “You have always been so good and kind and I cannot imagine that the gods would wish for you to be unhappy.”

“Then I doubt the gods wish it for you as well. Do not let our family words get in the way of your happiness.”

“Uncle—”

“You have already made our family proud, little fish. You have done your duty to us and have honored our house with how high you have risen. There is no need to feel that you can not grasp for happiness where you can. Demand it even. In all honesty, I think the king will give it to you if you just ask. I believe he’s half in love with you already.”

“Uncle,” she chided. 

“A man of the king’s standing would only allow me to beat him to such a degree if he thought he deserved it, which he does. Demand to be loved, little fish, for I do not think he would deny you.”

—

It was lonely not having her family with her. However, at least she still had Lysa. 

“How are things with Lord Arryn?” Celia asked her older sister. “I know he is not quite what any girl of our age would want…”

Lysa sighed. “He visits our marriage bed often enough, but I find myself sorely unsatisfied that I have often been left to my own fingers.”

Celia blushed. 

“Come now, little sister,” Lysa chided. “You are a married woman now, surely such things should not make you blush.”

“It does not mean I cannot feel embarrassment. You are my sister and perhaps I do not wish to envision you in such a position.”

Lysa snorted. “I suppose not. I would rather not think of you in such a way either.” Her sister paused. “Speaking of, how are you and Robert?”

“Will you not address him properly?”

“He knows full well that he has done very little to garner my respect. I feel he would almost be disappointed if I referred to him as  _ his grace _ . But you are shifting the topic, sweet sister. How are you and Robert?”

“We have… coupled a few times outside of the allotted dates given to us by the maester.”

Lysa smirked. “He would be a fool to deny a chance with you. You and Cat have always been the pretty ones.”

“I think boys were too frightened of your maturity Lysa,” Celia replied. “They knew not what to do with you and you could not fall for their boyish charms so easily.”

“Your sweet words will not deter me from the answers I seek, Celia.”

She sighed. “Robert has been kind and gentle towards me recently, but he has grown distant as of late. It seems there is some sort of project that is of the utmost importance. Not even Renly will tell me what it is.”

“Yes, Jon seemed rather flabbergasted about it as well. He tells me nothing either, although he says whatever Robert’s request is, it is an annoyance.”

“Hm,” Celia thought carefully. “I do wonder what he is doing. I hope he comes to me if he needs some insight.”

“As do I. However, I await the day when I learn of a possible prince on the way. Cersei has been utterly dreadful.” Lysa paused, frowning. “Forgive me, I should not have mentioned her.”

“We were bound to speak of her soon. I have been lucky to have very little to do with her as her pregnancy comes to an end. I hear she has been rather harsh with the servants. She truly does not understand her position.”

“It is fairly obvious that she has lost Robert’s favor. I even hear rumors that there are some who question if the babe is even Robert’s.”

Celia’s eyes widened. “I had not heard that.”

“Yes,” Lysa leaned in close. “Apparently, there is talk that she was not a maid when she and Robert first coupled. Perhaps she has another married lover somewhere. He will no doubt come from the woodwork asking for some sort of compensation from Cersei or House Lannister. Jon said he doubts the Lannisters as well.”

Celia’s lips pursed. “To lie about such a thug would be the highest offense.”

“I still remember when the Lannisters came to Riverrun for a possible match between me and Ser Jaime. Cersei was utterly unbearable. Everyone knows she wanted to marry Rhaegar to be queen. I trust her not and I think it is wise that so many are wary of her.”

“Keep me informed of anything you hear. People find themselves less talkative when I am around.”

“Because you are so well loved, Celia,” Lysa informed. “None wish to speak badly around you.” 

—

Celia awoke with a gasp. 

The feeling of old dragon claws scraping against her thigh ghosted against her flesh even now. She pushed off her covers and rushed off of her bed and to the basin of water waiting for her. She splashed cold water upon her face as she tried to calm down. 

She had not dreamed of Aerys in so long. Thoughts of the Mad King circled her, causing her stomach to twist as shadows shifted across her eyesight. Celia went to her door and opened it, finding Jaime outside. 

“Are you alright?” he asked her, taking note of her appearance. 

“A bad dream,” she replied and touched the hilt of his sword, the very one which had run Aerys through and had cut at his throat. “A bad dream and nothing more.”

“Do you need me to send someone to the kitchens to brew you some tea?” Jaime asked. 

Celia shook her head. “There is no need to wake anyone.” She chewed her lip. “Might you guide me to the King’s chambers. I… I do not wish to be left alone and I do not wish to bother Lysa. She already occupies her day with me as it is.”

“Lysa would be happy to comfort you, my queen.”

“Yes, but she deserves rest as well. I wish to see Robert,” she said. “I doubt Lady Cersei is able to venture this far from her place in the Maidenvault.”

Jaime nodded and offered Celia his arm as he escorted her to the king’s chambers. She waited patiently as Jaime nodded to Ser Barristan, who had come to guard Robert’s door recently, and knock on the door. 

Robert opened it, sleep still obviously his top priority until he saw Celia. 

“Is something wrong?” he asked, opening the door wide and cupping Celia’s face in his hands, looking her over in worry. 

“A nightmare,” she admitted, putting her hand over one of his own. “It’s nothing.”

Robert pressed his brow to hers. “It is not nothing, my queen. I shall send for someone to make you tea.”

“There is no need—”

“You need rest, Celia. I shall carry you to bed once you fall asleep.”

Celia blushed and nodded. Robert pressed a kiss to her brow and brought her into his rooms. She felt a rush of relief come upon her as she felt the warmth of his care. 

—

Although it was not one of the established nights for Robert to come to her chambers, Celia was surprised when Jaime knocked on her door to inform her that Robert had come. 

Celia set down her brush and went to her door to open it and found Robert standing nervously before her. In his hand were three sunflowers. She could see the dirt under his nails and the stains of green upon his fingers. 

“This is for you, my queen,” he said gently. “Oberyn tells me it means unconditional devotion and ever-growing love.”

Celia took the flowers in her hands, feeling the coolness of his hands and the slight cuts of some other flowers he might have held as well. She looked up at him, holding the flowers to her chest. “Thank you, Robert,” she said softly, feeling a blush creeping upon her cheeks. “They’re beautiful.” He smiled and she smiled back at him. “Is… Is there anything else you wanted, your grace?”

He shook his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I merely wanted to wish you a goodnight,” he said. “I have something I wish to show you in the morning. Could you break your fast with me tomorrow?”

“Of course,” she said, smiling. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly think the Blackfish is gay and that might be why he’s never married, that or there was a girl he loved who got married and he just never wanted to think of another woman in that way.  
> Either way, a much needed moment between an uncle and his niece.
> 
> Lysa and Celia being sisters. 😉
> 
> Robert being loving after Celia has a nightmare 😭😭😭
> 
> Robert picked her actual flowers this time and knows what they mean 😭😭😭 and you guys are going to be blown away what Robert will show her next chapter!


	30. Robert XV

Robert was nervous. 

He felt like this was his last chance, his last real chance to have a true marriage with Celia, his last chance to atone for all the hurt he had caused her and their family. After this, regardless of what happened, she would always be his wife and he knew they would continue to try for a son, but that would be all that they truly were. They would be parents to their children and partners in politics, but that would be it. This might be the last opportunity for Celia to be his  _ wife _ and all that it entailed. 

He was nervous. 

Robert did not know how he would be able to handle rejection, the heartbreak of it, except knowing full well that he deserved it, that he had done nothing to earn her love and had done nothing to garner her favor. He had taken advantage of her good heart for too long and now he could only show her that his feelings were true. If she asked him to crawl on his knees all the way to the Sept of Baelor, he would do it. If she asked for him to give her the sun and moon, he would find every possible way to do so. 

“Robert,” her voice came to him gently from across the small table in his solar. 

He looked to his wife and smiled. “Forgive me,” he said. “I find that I’m quite nervous.” 

“Why would you be nervous?” she asked. 

“I do not know if you will like what I have done as your surprise,” he admits, pushing his wine glass away. He needed to be alert. 

“As long as it is a good surprise,” she said. “I am sure I will be happy.” 

“I hope it is a good surprise,” he said. “I wish for you to be truthful too. I wish for you to tell me if you are truly happy with it. I want you to be honest.” 

She smiled at him. “I will.” 

Robert stood and went to her side. “My queen, would you mind taking a morning walk with me?” 

Celia’s lips parted into an even more brilliant smile. She took his offered arm, wrapping her own around it and let him lead her from his solar. “Have you seen Mya in her lessons recently?” she asked. 

“Yes, she’s improved greatly since coming here,” he said, pressing a kiss to his wife’s temple. “Although she seems to still have my temperament.”

Celia laughed. “She is much sweeter than that.”

“Am I not sweet, my love?”

A blush crept across her cheeks. “I believe rugged is a better word to describe you.”

“And beautiful would be the best word to describe you,” he said earnestly. “And kind.”

She smiled up at him sweetly. 

Robert paused in their walking and turned to her, pressing his lips firmly, but gently, against hers. Celia held his arm more firmly as the kiss grew just a little deeper. She pulled away first, her warm breath fanning across his skin. 

“Are you ready for your surprise?”

Celia nodded and Robert led her to the garden. He could feel her tense ever so slightly as she recognized where they were, then her eyes narrowed before widening, letting go of his arm and stepping forward, looking at it all. 

“How,” she whispered. “What?” She looked at him, her eyes wide in disbelief. 

“I ordered all the roses to be taken from the keep. There is not a single bloom left.” He went to her side and stood with her. “There might be a few portraits with roses in them and books in the library about them or with illustrations in them, but I figured that might be a little much.”

“All…” She seemed at a loss for words, a loss to explain her thoughts in general. 

“Shae told me why you don’t like roses. I know it seems ridiculous but… I didn’t want anything here that might remind you of my sins, my failure.”

Celia looked up at him, her eyes wide. “All the roses.”

Robert nodded. “All the roses.” He got down on his knees before her, taking her hands in his. “Celia, I have not been a good husband to you. I have been selfish and cruel and blind. This, by no means, takes away all the hurt that I have caused you, but I wish to do better. I wish to be better to you, be a husband you can be proud of, be a husband who can be by your side in all things.” He pressed her knuckles to his lips. “Please,” he begged. “Allow me this chance.”

Celia looked at him, her blue eyes vibrant against the morning sun. She led him, pulling him up to her and walked back until she was pressed against the pillar. “Show me,” she whispered. “Show me.”

Robert cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers. Her arms slid around his neck as the chaste press of their lips grew more hungry and desperate with every passing second. 

Then, he let his lips slide from her mouth and nuzzled her neck as she whined. A moan escaped her lips then as she felt his hand pulling at her skirt until he was on his knees again, her skirts over his head and his mouth pressed against her wetness. He devoured her until she could take it no more and pulled him weakly for her and kissed him again. 

Robert picked her up and carried her to his chambers, chambers he hoped she would move into before the week was out. 

—

Robert slammed the door to his room with his foot as he rushed himself and his wife to his bed. He began to undress quickly, hating how elaborate his and her clothes were. 

“I’m going to rip it,” he muttered darkly. 

“Don’t you dare,” she whined as she dealt with her own clothes. “I will not extend the clothing budget just because you’re getting frustrated.”

“Damn it,” he muttered, at the very least able to undo his trousers and shove them down his legs. 

“ _ Yes _ ,” Celia breathed as she pulled up her skirts, opening her legs to him as he crawled into bed with her. He sank into her with very little preamble and she hissed in pleasure, wrapping her legs around his hips as he buried himself to the hilt. 

He stayed there for what felt like forever, relishing in the feel of her wrapped around him, hot and wet and wanting. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled his mouth to hers, her tongue entering his opened mouth as he began a steady rut into her. 

They grew more tangled, his fist, tangled in her hair as his want grew, his other hand at her hip, gripping her, pulling her to him with every thrust. The shirts were hiked at her hips and his own shirt hung loose from his shoulders as he continued to find absolution between her thighs. 

Then, he hit the right spot. 

Celia’s head fell back into the bed and Robert watched as her eyes closed and her kiss-awoken lips parted, chanting his name at every thrust against her. 

“Celia,” he groaned, picking up the pace, wanting to be so buried within her that he did not wish to come out for another week, a month, a year. “Celia.”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes!”

He pressed his thumb to her and she screamed, coming apart around him, pulling him into his own release. He let go of her hair and held both of her hips, pressing himself as much as he could against her and spilled. He mouthed at her clothed breast hungrily. As they began to find their breath again. 

Robert rolled from her and onto his back, breathing heavily. Celia sat up after a moment, pushing herself onto her arms and looking down at him. “I should have let you rip it,” she said, her pupils blown wide. “It’s so very hot. I think you can only peel my clothes from me now it is so hot.”

Robert chuckled and got onto his knees. “Shall I call for a bath?”

Celia shook her head. “Tell the guards that Jon can be in charge for the day,” she told him, pulling at his collar until she was ripping the fabric clean down the middle. “Today, you are mine.”

Robert smiled. “I am yours everyday, my love,”

he replied. He pulled her lips towards his own as he began to unlace her dress. “But, for today, the world outside that door does not exist and all that matters right now is you.”

—

While they did spend the entire day in bed, with the intention of memorizing each other with such attentiveness that Robert was certain he would be able to map the freckles on her skin with ease, they had to leave their chamber the following day to catch up on everything. However, it did not stop them from pawing at each other whenever they had a moment of privacy. There was even one afternoon where he took her against the small council table, after everyone was gone of course. 

She was bent over, her skirts up her hips as she braced herself against the polished wood, moaning as he bent his knees slightly to thrust up into her. He pressed his lips to her back and said her name like a prayer with every thrust, the angle making him drunk on her and he alone. 

They always made sure it was not anywhere near Sansa and Mya, of course, not wanting to scar their daughters with any images or sounds of that. However, a few servants had walked in on them in their rooms when they had been too absorbed in each other, their mouths taking in all of the moans, to notice. 

It did nothing to sway them too much, though. They were ravenous for one another. Barely dated before they wanted the other again. 

She was already his world, but she became so much more. 

He was buried deep within her one early evening, having retired early for the day, when a fervent knock came to the door.

“Robert…” Celia sighed as he began to rut gently into her. 

“Leave it,” he insisted, taking her breast into his mouth. 

However the knock persisted. 

“It might be about the children,” she said, pulling at his hair and popping his mouth from her. 

He sighed, knowing that could be the case but doubting it. He told the servants they could burst in if it were about the girls. Robert stood, Celia whining as he pulled out of her. He cared not that he was naked and opened the door to find Lord Varys standing outside. 

“What?”

“Lady Cersei has gone into labor,” he said in a hushed tone. 

Robert’s lips formed a tight line. “Inform Ser Jaime,” he said. “He can be with her if he wishes her not to be alone, but I shall not go. Inform me of the child’s appearance once it’s born.”

The Master of Whispers bowed. “Yes, your grace.”

Robert went back to bed and began to kiss his wife’s thighs. 

“What was it about?” 

He shook his head as his lips went higher and higher up her leg. “Nothing important. Not more important than this.”

Celia fisted at his head as he pressed his mouth to her and began to feast. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of Robert’s gesture? He does indeed mean every rose. There is not a single one left in the Red Keep.
> 
> And sex sex sex.
> 
> And Cersei is giving birth. You’ll find out more next chapter!
> 
> And remember to check out my latest Celiaverse fic, find it here under the title of [Love’s Not Always Wise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24538315/chapters/59249338)


	31. Celia XVI

Celia schooled her features when Lord Varys visited them, after they were bathed and dressed in their sleepwear, and informed them that Cersei’s child was a boy. Robert has taken her hand in his and pressed a kiss to her knuckles and she squeezed his hand back. 

“And what does he look like?” Robert asked. 

“Most babes have blue eyes at birth, so we will know in a few months or so if they will remain that way. The babe was also born with little to no hair that would indicate the color.” Lord Varys bowed. “It depends on the child’s growth to know if they have any Baratheon features.”

Celia nodded. “Thank you, Lord Varys.” She looked to Robert. “What is to be done?”

“Once Lady Cersei is healed, she will be sent to Casterly Rock. The boy…”

“Lady Cersei has named him Joffrey.”

Robert nodded and continued. “Joffrey will be kept in the Red Keep, either as my bastard or as a ward to the Royal House Baratheon and raised to either be sent to become the next head of House Lannister or sent to Dorne where he might marry one of Prince Oberyn’s daughters.” He kissed Celia’s hand again. “Forgive me, my love, but that is all I can do for now.”

Celia nodded before turning to Lord Varys. “Make sure the boy has a nursemaid who is not of the Westerlands and that Cersei is cared for. I do not wish to insight the wrath of the Westerlands for any mistreatment done towards her.”

Lord Varys bowed. “As you wish, your grace.”

—

Robert said that she didn’t have to go, that Lysa could be sent to do it. Lysa said that she was going to go regardless, but she would accompany Celia for support as well. However, her sister said that she really didn’t have to go either. 

But, the thing was, she did have to go. 

Jaime shifted nervously as he escorted her to the Maidenvault where his sister was being cared for. From Celia’s understanding, many of the women who had previously flicked to Cersei, believing that she had the king’s ear and affection, had left her quickly, attempting to shift their way into Celia’s good graces instead. She allowed them a place in her court, but she rarely confided in them or gave them any meaningful things to do. They were like silk roses, she could not smell them, but she still disliked them all the same. 

Celia nodded and Jaime knocked on the door. 

“Queen Celia entering.” He opened the door and Celia walked through the threshold. Cersei was sitting up in her bed, attended by two midwives. Joffrey had already been set in a private nursery with a nursemaid who hailed from the Riverlands. 

Cersei was already glaring at Celia upon her entry. “Come here to gloat?”

“No,” Celia replied. “Believe it or not, I am here to check on you. I know Maester Pycelle has only just left from his evaluation on you.”

Cersei’s green eyes flared. “I doubt that is all you came here to do? Did you come to Mark your territory? He slept with me often,” she said. “Do you really think his cock will not plant itself where he is familiar?”

“Cersei,” Jaime warned, but Celia lifted her hand to quiet him. 

“I am here because I am your  _ queen  _ and it is my duty to look after the women of this keep.”

Cersei sneered. “You do not even deserve the title. You are nothing but a—”

“It is not about what is deserved, Cersei, rather what is earned. While my title is queen, it does not suddenly mean people will truly respect me as such. If I am to be remembered at all, it will be because the people respect me beyond my title. You…” Celia shook her head. “We could have been friends, Cersei. And I think that is the saddest thing of all. You could have made your way in the keep and become loved and respected. Instead you insist on nothing but to tear me, and any other women who get in your way, down.” Cersei merely glared at her in response. “Once you heal, you will be escorted to Casterly Rock.”

“And my son?”

“I am not you, Cersei,” Celia replied. “He will be treated well.”

—

_ Lady Cersei is so ungrateful.  _

_ The lions have always tried claiming things that didn’t belong to them.  _

_ What sort of daughter did Lord Tywin raise? _

_ To lay with someone else’s husband.  _

_ I heard the king was always drunk when it happened.  _

_ Do you think the Lannisters drugged the king? _

_ I heard that Ser Jaime rarely speaks to his sister.  _

_ Did you know that the little bastard is to stay here? _

_ The queen is far too gracious.  _

_ The queen is too kind.  _

_ Everyone should handle any situation as the queen does.  _

_ You can tell that she was trained by Princess Elia.  _

_ It’s obvious that she was born to be queen.  _

_ Thank the gods that the Lannisters have seen some disgrace.  _

_ I bet that Lord Tywin sought to discredit the queen because she had his vassal, the Mountain, killed.  _

_ Gods, Cersei is insufferable.  _

_ No one wants to serve her.  _

_ I heard the queen visited the woman personally and even made sure her needs were met.  _

_ Queen Celia is truly a gift within the Red Keep.  _

_ Did you hear about those schools she is opening? _

_ The Grand Maester and the High Septon apparently think the act is a stroke of genius.  _

The rumors swirled about the keep, but Celia paid them very little heed. They mostly painted her in a positive light, occasionally bordering upon the naïve. 

More importantly, they painted Cersei and House Lannister, outside of Jaime, in a bad light. While Lord Tywin has been tolerated at court for his insight, he was not well liked, barely respected. However, Cersei’s actions had caused some lords to withdraw their favor for the Old Lion. 

It was obvious to everyone that the king cared very little for Lord Tywin and whatever attention he had paid Cersei was so obviously shifted back onto Celia. 

She heard there was even a song being written about them.  _ A Roseless Garden _ , she believes it was called.

Celia walked through the keep on the way to her duties and was met with respect and even reverence. Yes, she was truly a blessed woman. 

—

The warm sunlight was calmed by the cool breeze that fluttered in through the windows. If she were paying attention, Celia would have been able to hear the bustling of some of the servants in the courtyard. However, that was the furthest thing from her mind at the moment. 

She laid upon her marriage bed, her body bare and relaxed at the gentle ministrations of her husband’s tongue. 

Celia sighed, coming down from her soft release, her fingers carding through his dark hair. 

Robert pulled himself up and Celia stretched upon the sheets of their bed and sat up, her legs trembling ever so slightly. She peered down at her husband and could see his desire, although he wasn’t fully erect yet. Celia laid down again, then, and curled into Robert’s side, hooking her leg over his own as he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closely to him. 

Celia pressed open mouthed kisses to his neck and shoulder as he grunted against her hand which was wrapped carefully around his manhood. 

“Today was supposed to be about you, my love,” he groaned, his voice hitching ever so slightly. 

“Tomorrow is my nameday,” she said. “Not today.”

“But we will have little time for this tomorrow, Celia,” he grumbled, his hips bucking into her hand. “The feast and the girls…”

“Hm…”

Celia sat up again and got onto her knees. She shifted and straddled his hips, looking down at him with a smirk on her lips. Robert’s blue eyes were dark and his mouth was open with slight anticipation. She watched his eyes close and his head fall back as she sank down onto his cock until she was fully seated astride him. 

“Gods, Celia,” he whispered, looking up at her as though she were the Maiden herself. One hand was on her hip and the other upon her cheek as she pressed her hands against his chest for balance. She lifted one hand and pressed his palm to her lips, giving his skin sweet kisses as she began to roll her hips ever so carefully against his, grinding herself against. “Gods.”

Celia let her own head roll back as she reveled in the feeling of her control, of the way he began to chant her name. Then, his thumb began to rub her just the right place and rhythm against the rolling of her hips. 

“Robert,” she sighed, feeling her stomach tighten as she was drawn so very close. 

“Celia,” he grunted as he began to thrust into her. 

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes!”

She hunched over, trying to keep her balance as she came, letting him thrust a few more times until she felt him spill. 

They coupled once more after that before smuggling to one another and drifting off into blissful exhaustion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn’t the last we will see of Cersei.


	32. Robert XVI

This was the first time the royal family visited the sept since Cersei gave birth. The woman still moaned about her pain and had been allowed to stay a little longer, but she was to leave by the end of the month. Even so, this visit was not any sort of commemoration for the child, but rather a normal visit where they would watch a normal service at the Sept of Baelor. 

Robert wore clothes that were plainer than what he might wear at court. Celia had told him it would make him appear pious to the septons and the people. He wore a yellow tunic with black trousers. His tunic had fine embroidery of stags chasing a doe and two small fawns along the hem. Three of the deer wore crowns, while the second fawn, who represented Mya, had blue embroidery to outline it. He wore his crown still, but not the extravagant thing that the Mad King had worn. His own crown was made of dark wood and shaped into stag antlers pushed together in a large circlet. 

Celia wore a gown of yellow with black trim. The sleeves on that part of the dress went to her shoulders while her underdress was a Tully blue. Her sleeves were long and flowing, like the fabric was water itself. It too was a simple dress, but very well made, done in her own hand with small details of a family of fish at the trim of the blue dress and a copy of the stag embroidery upon the bodice of the yellow dress. She wore a small crown similar to Robert’s save it was made out of a lighter wood. 

Mya wore a black dress, although she had trousers underneath it as well. There was yellow embroidery of the same scene of deer with her fawn being outlined in blue. She wore a circlet of silver in her tamed black curls denoting her status as Robert’s royal bastard. Mya was standing along the balcony of the royal box in the sept, her chin resting upon the ledge as she looked down upon the crowd. It was better for her to be standing and moving about as she was at the age where one always wished to move. 

Sansa wore a yellow dress with black ribbons in her hair since she was far too small to be trusted with any sort of crown or circlet. Her dress had the scene of deer embroidered upon her skirt, although the trim was blue, which made it look like the deer were running across a stream. Sansa has long since fallen asleep in Robert’s arm. She had done so at some point between the opening songs and the beginning of the sermon. 

Celia held his hand throughout most of their time. Robert would run his thumb along the back of her hand and she would bum occasionally whenever he made a circle motion at the joint between her thumb and forefinger. 

It was a peaceful service and Robert wouldn’t change it for the world. 

—

They had begun to share their wedding bed more often than Maester Pycelle had suggested. They could not help themselves. Perhaps they could, but they did not wish to. Besides, it was not just about getting Celia with child again. This was about him wanting her and her wanting him. 

They needed each other. In ways that mere words could not explain. 

Celia mewled beneath him as Robert set a steady pace, letting herself be pushed into the mattress with every thrust. Her breath was sweet against his skin as she held onto him, fisting at his hair as her legs squeezed his hips. 

“Harder,” she begged. “Oh, gods. Harder.”

Her groaned into her neck as she spurred him on. One of her hands was on his back and he could feel her nails sink into his flesh as he was so close to falling apart. Robert reached between them and began to circle his thumb around just the right spot as Celia began to pant until she reached her satisfying release and Robert fell in soon afterward. 

“Celia—”

Robert was careful to fall onto his side as not too crush her. He took a moment to catch his breath before reaching over to get a cloth to clean themselves. Afterwards, the two cuddled atop the sheets, tangling together until they fell into a blissful sleep. 

—

Robert received a letter from Ned and, for the first time in what felt like forever, he thought of Lyanna. 

It was strange how he used to think of the girl daily, what felt like hourly, but now he could not even remember the last time he thought of her. How could he, when, truly, he had known next to nothing about her. He knew that she had been his best friend’s sister and that she was wild and willful and pretty, but that was it. He did not know her, not as he knew Celia. 

Robert could not imagine ever marrying the wolf girl that had once haunted his dreams. When he tried to imagine a life as simply the Lord of Storm’s End, all he could imagine was Celia by his side and Sansa and Mya in his arms. He could imagine no alternative. 

This life that he had built for himself, he wanted nothing else. He wanted no one else. 

Robert shook his head and opened Ned’s letter and began to read. 

_ Robert, _

_ I write to you for no other reason that it has been too long. I suppose I write because I am writing to Benjen as well and I am feeling nostalgic. It doesn’t feel like it has been that long since the rebellion was fought and won and yet I feel as though I have been aged a decade.  _

_ I write to you because I also need to know that you are treating Celia well. We have heard rumors, and they are not good.  _

_ Treat her well, Robert, for she deserves more than this.  _

_ Your friend, _

_ Ned _

—

Celia was on Robert’s arm as the walked around the gardens. The lack of roses was hardly noticeable, allowing for more colorful flowers to fill the spaces and bringing about a more lively appearance to it. 

Constructing a better clearing was in the works to allow Robert, Celia and the children to play. There were even discussions of planting glass gardens in King’s Landing to help provide food for the schools and help teach children how to grow their own things to eat. 

Robert and Celia were in their own little world, his wife giggling at one of his stupid jokes when Jaime ran to them 

“Robert!” he called. He was out of breath and pale. 

“What is it, Jaime?” Celia asked, going to the knight and setting her hand on his shoulder as he caught his breath. 

“It’s the Ironborn,” he said, looking to Robert. “They have set fire to the Lannister fleet docked at Lannisport.” Worry marred his handsome features. “They have declared rebellion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus it begins


	33. Celia XVII

Celia paced about her chambers, which had turned into a glorified study since she had moved into her husband’s rooms. Robert had rushed to the Small Council in an emergency meeting to discuss the attack on Lannisport. Celia had waited with the children for a long while, but then they had been put down for a nap and Celia could not stand still. She had then gone to her rooms to try and work on some of the programs to be put in place for her schools, she had plans for making a school specifically for girls in Oldtown, but even that could not distract her from her worry. 

It was not so long ago that Robert had won his rebellion against the Targaryens. Celia tried to think on why Balon Greyjoy would be stupid enough to start a rebellion of his own. He and Tywin Lannister had not joined Robert’s forces until they were certain on which side would be winning. She was no fool to think that either man held any loyalty to Robert, they had not fought because they believed in the cause against the Targaryens, they had sided once the war had already been won with the death of Rhaegar. 

Celia’s door opened and Robert entered, looking pale and serious. She went to her husband, wrapping her arms around him and looked at him with worry. “What more have you heard?” 

“Balon Greyjoy has crowned himself king of the Iron Islands and has decided to show that he will bow to no other man,” her husband said, running his fingers through his hair. 

“He cannot seriously think that you will just stand by and let him do such things,” Celia said, shaking her head. “The Ironborn have barely been tolerable when they were under allegiance to the crown, they will reave and rape the costal cities to their hearts desire as they sue for independence.”

“Aye,” Robert said. “It’s why I am to go and meet them on the battlefield and beat them into submission if I cannot do so with words.” 

Celia’s lips formed a thin line as she hugged him tighter. “I do not want you to go.” 

“I know.” 

“But I will not stop you either. You are the king as well as my husband.” She got on her toes and kissed him chastely upon the lips. “But you must come back to me Robert Baratheon, for I shall never forgive you if you don’t.” 

Robert kissed her chastely back. “I would expect nothing less.” 

—

They went to their marriage bed every night as they prepared for him to leave in the next three days. Robert was gentle at some moments and ravaged her the next, pulling out one more peak after peak in his decision to leave her utterly spent at the end of every night. She was so exhausted from the tightening and falling over her body that she rested well against him each night. But this night, the forth since they had learned of the Greyjoy rebellion was different.

Robert pulled out of her and fell onto his side, although the weight of him caused him to turn onto his back. Celia was spent and utterly boneless. She was going to be sore in the morning, but she didn’t really care. If she were not so tired she would be determined to ride him, but she needed a moment to breathe. Robert had pounded into her so absolutely that it had taken her breath away. 

She was no fool. Celia knew exactly what her husband was doing. She was doing the same. She was memorizing every inch of his skin and the taste of him upon her tongue. It was not that she didn’t think her husband could win against the Ironborn, it’s just that she didn’t trust them to play fair. The glorified pirates, for that’s all they truly were, held no code of honor and Celia worried for her husband and his own honor when he fought against such men as those who worshiped gods that would happily drown them. 

Robert had worshiped her body that night, kissing every inch of her skin and drinking from her lips between her legs as she trembled about him. 

Celia rolled to her own side and curled against his own, molding herself against him. She let her nails drag against his chest and he gave a rumbling sound of approval as he took deep breaths. 

“You come back to me, Robert,” she said again, just as she said every night. “I will be very cross if you leave me.” 

“I will be too,” he said, kissing her tenderly on the crown of her head. “Celia.” 

“Hm?” 

“I sent a proclamation to the Citadel this past morning proclaiming Sansa as my heir with you and Stannis standing in as regent until she is sixteen.” 

Celia pushed herself up and looked at her husband with wide eyes. “You what?” 

“Sansa is my heir. She is to marry Stannis’ eldest son, should he have any, or Ned’s second eldest, Jon, to keep it within the Baratheon-Tully family, or Jon Arryn’s son if need be.”

“Lord Tywin will not be pleased.” 

“I have not recognized Joffrey as my own as Lord Varys is still looking into claims. But even if he is my son, I will not put him in front of our daughter. The only child who will sit on the throne after me will be one that you have given me. I have made it clear that, regardless of gender, a child born of the queen will be the first in line for the throne.” 

“I still beg that you come back to me.” In that moment, she cared not for the throne, although she was touched by Robert’s actions. “I do not want to be here without you.” 

Robert pulled her more tightly to him and pressed his lips firmly against her own. 

—

Celia stood, holding Sansa in her arms. Robert held the both of them after he had given his farewell to Mya. He tickled Sansa’s cheek and neck with his beard and Sansa was determined to give her father kisses as well, planting a big wet, childish kiss upon his cheek. Robert kissed their daughter and then turned his affection onto her. 

“Be safe, my love,” she told him softly. 

His blue eyes shone in pure joy as he kissed her softly. “I swear that I shall.” 

Celia smiled at him and pressed a handkerchief into his hand. It was yellow with a black stag, doe, and two fawns racing about the edge. “Keep your family close to your heart,” she said. “For we will pray for you every day until you return.” 

Robert kissed her again before looking to Lord Varys and the people he would be leaving behind in the Red Keep. “I leave my wife in charge as I leave to fight for our kingdom,” he said, his voice booming. “She is my voice and my judgment as I am gone. She has the authority of the king in my absence.” He looked to Celia and smiled. “Listen to her well.” 

—

Celia sat in her solar in the late evening. She did not wish to remain in the king’s chambers while he was away. The bed was far too large without him and she could not bear to spend her nights alone in his room in fear of waking up heavy with loneliness. She instead shared her old chambers with Lysa, who was also alone then, with Jon Arryn having left with Robert. 

“They will be fine,” her sister said. “They have won a rebellion with less odds.”

“It does not mean I can’t worry.” 

Lysa smiled as she did her own needlework. “No, it doesn’t.” 

“Are you sad to see your husband go?” 

“I do not love the man,” Lysa admitted. “He does not love me and our marriage is a means to an end. However, he allows me more freedom than Father ever did.” 

Celia nodded. 

“Besides, he has left me with a gift before leaving.” 

“Oh?” Celia looked at her sister from her embroidery. 

Lysa smiled proudly and patted her stomach. “He has left me with a babe growing in my belly. A little cousin for the princess to play with.” 

Celia smiled broadly. “Truly?” 

“Maester Pycelle confirmed it,” Lysa nodded. “Within a year I shall have a babe at my breast.” 

Celia stood and went to her sister, hugging her gently. “I am so happy for you, Lysa.” 

Her sister hugged her back. “I am too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lysa will not be having miscarriages in this so there you go.


	34. Robert XVII

They rode out to meet with the coming Northern and Western forces. It would take five days to travel, although it would take a bit more time for Ned and his men to join them, a few days at most. Even so, Robert did his best to keep his men’s morals up. He called for music and tales of glory from past battles, sharing sips of wine with his men, hoping that they would find this fight worth having. Hoping that they would find him to be a king worth fighting for. 

Jon had spoken to Robert extensively over whether or not it was worth going to fight against the Ironborn himself. Jon had spoken against it, while Robert felt that it was his duty to defend his people and force the Ironborn to kneel to the new Baratheon crown. He would not be a Targaryen king who sat behind safe in his keep while his men or future sons died for him. He was chosen as king, not just for his Targaryen blood, but for his leadership in the rebellion. He would not stop now when it came to protecting his family. 

He had so much more to fight for now, so much more. 

If he fell, Celia, Sansa, and Mya would be in danger of the Lannisters as well as those who would seek to undermine Celia in raising her daughters the  _ proper  _ way, under the protection of a man that Robert might not trust. If it were Ser Jaime, he would be at ease, but he could not allow it either way. He might be able to trust Stannis, but he knew that his brother did not care for him since his placement at Dragonstone. 

Therefore, Robert would live. He would live and he would return to his family whole. 

That night, before he headed to his tent to rest, Robert pulled out the handkerchief Celia had made for him. He pressed a kiss to the fabric, still smelling her faintly upon it.    
“I will come back, Beloved,” he said softly. “I will return to you and soon we will be able to do everything properly.” For Robert could not imagine his life without Celia. 

To Robert, a life without his family was a meaningless life and he vowed that he would return to them. He had to…

He had to. 

—

The first thing Ned did the second he saw Robert again was punch him in the face. Something cracked loudly and Robert was fairly sure it was his own nose. Ned shook his hand, and Robert can only guess how much it actually hurt. Even so, Robert held a towel to his nose, catching the blood. There wasn’t too much of it, but it still hurt like the seven hells. 

“That was from Cat,” Ned practically spat. 

Robert nodded. “And?”

Ned punched him in the gut then and Robert stumbled ever so slightly. “That’s from me. You’re lucky that I don’t wish to assault you anymore than that.”

“Aye,” Robert said, his voice strained. Any lower and it might have been difficult to give Celia the children she wanted. “How is Cat and the children?” 

“I don’t like being away from them.”

Robert nodded, leading Ned to the tent with the rest of the council. “Aye. I understand that.”

“Do you.” 

Robert chuckled. This rebellion might also be the way that Robert shows Ned just how serious he was about Celia. “Yes,” he said simply. “Yes I do.”

—

“I would like to have a word with you, your grace.”

Robert looked at Tywin Lannister, already guessing on what he wished to speak about. He sighed and set aside the map he was working on with plans for their attack upon the Ironborn. He motioned for the Old Lion to sit. “And how might I help you my lord?”

“First I would like to thank you for allowing my daughter to stay in the Red Keep,” the older man began. “I know you care for her—”

“I shall stop that statement before it leaves your lips, my lord,” Robert said forcefully. “I have little to no care for your daughter. I care not for how she pretended to befriend my wife, only for her to use that friendship to get closer to me when I was weak and drunk and mourning. I do not care for your daughter, I regret any of the time I have spent with her and, if you have heard anything from your little spies I have no doubt littered the Red Keep, you would know that I have not visited her in months, many, many months.” 

Lord Tywin’s moth formed a firm line at that. “Even so, you kept her in the Red Keep, despite your earlier statement of sending her away to Casterly Rock.” 

“I have kept her there because she did not handle her pregnancy well and I would not send a sick woman to travel. Then the attack on Lannisport happened. Any sane man would never send a woman to an active warzone.” Robert sighed. “Do not read into my actions when there is nothing special about them, my lord. I still question whether or not that babe is my own and I will not allow you to sink your claws into him regardless. I do not trust you, my lord.”

“I will remind you, your grace,” the Old Lion said slowly. “It was because of me that you were able to get the throne. If not for me, another Targaryen would be sitting on the throne.” 

“You have made it so my reign began with the blood of an innocent woman and her children.” Robert glared at the Lannister lord. “I would be very careful of what you say next, my lord.” 

“House Lannister has stood by your side in the capital when you had no allies.” 

“Because of your daughter, I had threatened to ruin my connection to three houses. Four if you include the Martells, whom my wife has found favor with.” Robert stood. “I will take the blame for my actions towards your daughter. They were stupid, but considering how I recall you even trying to push your daughter onto Rhaegar during the Tourney of Harrenhal. You want your daughter to be queen. She won’t be. None of your children or grandchildren will be anywhere near my throne.” He stood over his Warden of the West, glaring down at him. “I have come to your aid, not for you, but for your people. For the people of the Westerlands are mine as well. You have not done me a favor, my lord. I am doing one for you.” 

—

He dreamed of her. Of them. His wife and daughters. They called to him in his sleep and Robert wept at the thought of not seeing them for who knew how long. 

Robert got up from his bed and went to his writing desk and began to write.

_ Dearest Celia, _

_ I miss you.  _

_ I could send those words only and they would mean all that they can. I have grown accustomed to you being by my side, being within an arm's reach of myself. Now, the space that you fill is empty and I cannot help but mourn your presence. You have been replaced by Ned’s dower face and he is not all that happy with me, as you can imagine. Your sister sends her love and vengeance. You might find my nose will have changed ever so slightly when it comes to its appearance. Worry not though, for it’s fine. It only bled a little.  _

_ I miss you, my love.  _ _   
_ _ I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.  _

_ I cannot wait until I am able to be with you, until I am able to hold you and our girls in my arms once more.  _

_ Your loving husband, _

_ R _

_ P.S. I have attached a formal letter from Cat and Ned. Your good brother trusts me that much at least.  _

Once the ink had dried, Robert held his letter to his chest and let sleep claim him once more. 


	35. Celia XVIII

She couldn’t bear to stay away any longer. Celia climbed into the large bed in the king’s chambers and slept there. Lysa stayed close to the maester as she had reached the time of morning sickness and her sister did not wish to disrupt Celia’s sleep, as Celia was the head of the Red Keep while Robert was away. Even so, Celia did not sleep alone.

Her sweet daughter slept with her, curled into Celia’s chest and gripping her shift tightly as she sucked her thumb. Mya slept with her too, although sprawled upon the bed, taking as much room as possible, her hand holding onto some of Celia’s hair as she slept. 

Even so, the bed felt so very empty. Sometimes she would awake in the middle of the night to Mya tugging her hair or Sansa needing to be changed… Celia would stay there in bed for just a moment longer and look at the space he had left for her. She could recall the words of his last letter  _ Now, the space that you fill is empty and I cannot help but mourn your presence.  _ It was true. She mourned her husband’s presence. She mourned the life they had begun to build together, slowly bringing together the life that Celia had dreamed of since she was a little girl. 

Her moonblood had come just three nights before and Celia had mourned that too. A part of her had hoped that she would be able to send word to him of another pregnancy, that his seed had somehow taken root within her. That she would be able to give him a son, a trueborn son. 

But it wasn’t meant to be. 

Perhaps it was for the best. Celia wished to tell him in person. She wished to hear his laughter as she told him. She wished to feel his warm embrace as he held her close, the tender kisses upon her person as he thanked her for making their family grow. Perhaps she would be blessed when he returned. 

She blushed at the thought of how her husband might return to their bed. She blushed at the thought of his affection. 

She fell asleep throughout the night, whenever she was asked to rise, to thoughts of Robert returning and being, once more, kept close to his side. 

—

Celia had a small writing table brought out into the garden as she watched Shae look after Mya and Sansa. The two sisters had decided to have a small tea party with their dolls. Shae looked relieved at the prospect, for Mya had begun to enjoy climbing the walls and trees to the garden, as Robert had allowed their eldest daughter to wear trousers under her dresses. Shae, who only wore dresses, could only do so much before she was forced to call on Ser Jaime for aide. 

The gardens had slowly become Celia’s favorite place to be after the roses had been taken from them. It was a good place to find a bit of sun and the perfumed air felt good in her lungs. Shae had said it covered the smell of sweat from the knights, which Jaime often scoffed at. Even so, he would check himself and only occasionally wince at his own stench. 

Celia returned to her blank parchment and began to write her letter to her husband. 

_ My dearest Robert,  _

_ My only comfort in the Red Keep are our children, my sister, and Ser Jaime. I thank you for leaving him behind with us. I know that he was rather cross at me in the beginning for requesting that he stayed. But I believe he understands the necessity of a pro-Baratheon-Tully Lannister is a must in the Red Keep at this time.  _

_ There have been a few rumors about Lady Cersei and her son circulating, however not all of them are good for them. There are whispers that she had come to you while you were drunk and unable to properly push her away. As your wife, I am well aware of your physical strength, but also well versed in the weakness you have shown me when inebriated. I am more dainty than Cersei and I had been able to roll your body from my own. I do not write this for you to feel bad, but to make a point.  _

_ If such rumors are true, I wish that you had told me. I would have still been hurt by Lady Cersei’s pregnancy, but I would not have been so angry with you.  _

_ I miss you, my love. I miss you as the sun misses the moon. I miss you as a starving man misses food. I miss you as a wife misses her husband. I miss you.  _

_ I await your return and pray for your victory in the sept and in the godswood both.  _

_ Return to me, my love, so that I might shower you with my affection.  _

_ Yours, forever yours,  _

_ C _

“What are you writing?” Mya said, peering over the table to look at the letter. 

“I am writing to your father,” she told the little girl. Celia thought for a moment. “Would you like to sign your name upon it?” 

Mya’s expression brightened. “Shae showed my how to write  _ miss you _ . Can I write that too?” 

“Of course.” Celia lifted the girl onto her lap and handed her the quill. Mya wrote and signed her little message at the corner of the letter, very proud of her penmanship, lifting her chin proudly as she told Shae what she had done. “Shae,” Celia said. “Could you bring Sansa here for a moment.” Celia took her ink well in hand as Shae did as requested. She took the ink and spread it upon the palm of her daughter’s hand and pressed the print into the paper before taking out a handkerchief and cleaning it carefully. She then signed Sansa’s name under the handprint. “Perfect.” She sprinkled the setting powder and waited for it to dry as she went to join her daughter’s in their game. 

—

On the days that Lysa felt well enough to venture outside of her chambers, the two of them stayed in the king’s solar to sew and knit. Many of the women in their rather small circle would join them as they made things to send to the soldiers. Many could recall their husbands, brothers, and sons speaking to them plainly of the first rebellion and how clean cloth was necessary to keep wounds from getting infected. They sewed new shirts and trousers. They knitted scarves and other things to keep their necks safe from the biting metal of their armor. 

A few of the ladies were expecting alongside Lysa and they all spoke about their varying experiences, occasionally deferring to Celia or the other women who had already had children. 

It warmed Celia’s heart that things were beginning to change for her. Although she missed her husband greatly and longed for him to return to her, in the daylight, where she was not made to feel the empty space he left within her, she was surrounded by women who had chosen her and not the woman who possibly birthed a son. 

She was surrounded by friends. 


	36. Robert XVIII

“When do you think the fighting will be over?” Robert asked softly. He and Ned were going over battle plans. He would get a large shove every so often, but Ned had begun to see how much Robert loved his wife and children and regretted the instances with Lady Cersei. 

“I don’t know,” the Northman answered. “I suppose when the Ironborn submit.” 

“I don’t mean the rebellion,” Robert said, shaking his head. “I mean all of it. I’m tired of fighting. I rule because it was what you and Jon wanted, but I’m tired of fighting and being away from my family. It’s… It’s not the life I wanted Ned.”

“I don’t think it is the life either of us had planned on,” Ned said, nodding. “But it’s the life we had and I…” His friend sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t imagine not being married to Cat. I can’t imagine not returning to Winterfell to my sons and them calling for me as their father. I miss my father and Brandon and Lyanna, and even Benjen who is simply at the Wall. I miss them, but I wouldn’t trade them for the life I have with Cat… I don’t think I could live without her now.”

“I know what you mean,” Robert nodded. “I didn’t know your sister, in all honesty, I didn’t. But now, whatever image I once had of her… It’s a pale comparison to Celia and I would not wish to change any of it. Perhaps I would wish that we had not come together after such a violent rebellion with so many lives lost, but, if the gods were good, I would be allowed to be by her side in all other versions of myself and I would pray that I would be worthy of her each time.”

“Since when have you tried your hand at poetry?” Ned joked.

Robert chuckled. “I suppose she inspires such things in me.”

Ned smiled. “You asked me when the fighting could be over.”

“Aye,” Robert nodded. “I did.” 

“Let’s make this the last war,” Ned said. “Let this be the last one and let there be peace for us and our children. I don’t wish for them to pick up the pieces we left undone. I wish for them to forge their own path.” 

“Let’s get on with it then.” 

—

They were preparing for a siege on the Pyke. 

Robert hated the place. It was dreary and damp and cold and he just wanted to go home. There had been a group of smallfolk and men of the Faith who had fled towards Robert’s forces, fleeing from the Ironborn pirates and their gods that apparently enjoyed drowning people. They would be moving out by the end of the night to get as far from the oncoming battle as they possibly could. 

“Do you have any words for me, septon?” Robert asked, as an elderly man thanked him for his generosity in sharing food and some of the spare blankets for the children. “Any prayers or words of wisdom?”

The old man thought for only a moment. “May I be bold, your grace?” 

“My wife’s good brother punched me in the face and the chest upon meeting me again and he still lives,” Robert said, rubbing his nose slightly. It hurt like the Seven Hells on occasion, but he deserved it and he had worse in battle. “You need not fear retribution should I not like what you have to say.” 

The old man nodded. “Before Lord Balon attacked the Lannister fleet, I had a dream.” 

“Oh?”

“There is an old godswood near my village and I would go to it often for solitude,” the man admitted. “My mother was of the North, you see, and she would tell me stories of the old gods and I find comfort in the old religion for it reminds me of my mother. I seek solitude there when I am in need of comfort.” The man coughed into his fist, seemingly to get back on track. “On that particular day, I happened to have fallen asleep. One of the women in the village had given birth in the early hours in the morning and I was to preside over the babe receiving their name. Anyway, I fell asleep and I had a dream. I dreamed of a lion, wounded and feral. It came upon a blue doe with fur that shimmered like fish scales. The doe appeared to be pregnant. I then saw that the doe was surrounded by poisonous plants.” 

Robert narrowed his eyes. “And what do you think this dream means?”

“I’m not sure,” the old septon replied. “However, I believe that you need to be wary of the Lannisters and keep a close eye on the queen. She is well loved, your queen. But those who seek power do not always care for love.” 

Robert nodded. “I will keep your words close. You may go.” 

The old man bowed. “Thank you, your grace.” 

Robert said nothing as he watched the man leave. The king went to his desk and quickly wrote a letter out to Ser Jaime. Regardless of the man’s house, he was loyal to Celia and the children. 

_ Keep an eye on your sister,  _ he wrote.  _ Make sure that no one suspicious brings Celia anything to eat or drink. Please, keep her safe. _

—

It was not much of a battle. 

While the Ironborn were proficient at sea, they were sorely lacking on land. They were used to walking the floor of a ship with the sea rocking them about. Their fighting style was of brute force on land, ramming into their opponent and knocking them to the ground. They could be merciless when they were able to get their opponent on the ground, but it did not mean they were good fighters, especially against men who had already found their footing in battles on land. 

It was their weakness, he supposed, their arrogance. 

He had killed Rhaegar Targayren and his men had destroyed the Targaryen and Martell forces, even though the defeat of the Martells was more due to Rhaegar’s inadequacies. 

The siege of the Pyke was not so difficult and, once the battle was won, Robert breathed out a sigh of relief. 

He could go home. 


	37. Celia XIX

She was only a little angry. 

Robert has only sent word when he and his armies were less than a day’s ride away. It hadn’t even been Robert to alert her, it had been Ned. 

_ He wants it to be a surprise, but I know you would prefer to be prepared.  _

Yes she very much would like to be prepared. 

She was able to rush about quickly to prepare the guest wing of the keep as well as a mid-day feast for the soldiers and her husband and had the food stores be open to spread to the small folk as well. 

She got Mya ready, taming the little girl’s curls with a yellow ribbon in her hair. She got Sansa ready, dressing her neatly. She got herself ready with the help of Lysa who was trying to do the best she could to help, with Jaime and Shae trying to keep the girls entertained. 

And then, they were ready to meet Robert at the gates, they could hear the victorious army approaching over the walls of the Red Keep and Mya was bouncing on her heels knowing her father was coming home and had been getting closer by the second. 

They all rushed down to properly greet their king—Celia realized that Robert might not have been thinking of how much there was to do to prepare for his arrival as a king as opposed to as a simple lord of the Stormlands—and her husband. 

She smoothed out her skirts as the gates opened and her heart pounded in her chest as Robert rode in, his helmet gleaming in the afternoon sun. He dismounted with his men and took off his helmet and handed it to Ned. 

“Dada!” Sansa shouted, clapping her hands together. “Dada!”

Robert looked up at them and smiled. 

Celia had promised herself that she wouldn’t cry, but perhaps she was allowed it if they were hidden by his embrace. 

Celia lifted her skirts and ran to him. Robert opened his arms to her and she threw her arms around his neck as his own wrapped around her. He lifted her up until she was hanging off him, burying her face in his neck as the tears came. 

“Welcome home,” she whispered softly. 

Robert set her down and cupped her face in his hands. “I’m home.”

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers and Celia melted against him, letting the kiss deepen just enough for them to both know how they were about to. Spend their night. 

—

They fell into bed as soon as they put the girls to sleep. It had taken a lot of coaxing from Shae to convince the children that they shouldn’t sleep in their father’s bed, as they had grown used to. But, in the end, she had been able to by promising that  _ Ser Jaime would tell you as many bedtime stories as it took to fall asleep _ . The knight had been a little peeved, but conceded that he would rather not guard the Kong’s chambers that night anyway. 

So, Robert led his wife to their room, stopping to kiss her every ten steps, occasionally sliding his tongue into her mouth as he held her by the hips and she could feel his growing hardness underneath his breeches. 

Finally, they made it to the room and it went even more slowly from there. 

They undressed one another with care and Celia traces her fingers along the healing bruises where his armor had suffered from the most impact. His own fingers still had her body memorized and he let his fingers drag against her spine as she arched against him. He bent down and took a breast in his mouth and Celia sighed as he did so. That was when the last of their clothes whispered against the floor as they fell. 

Celia moaned softly as he released her breast from his mouth and hooked his arm beneath her and lifted her up until she had her legs wrapped around his hips and she could feel his cock along the seam of her womanhood. She cupped his face in her hands and began to kiss him once more, possessing his mouth and laying claim to it as he welcomed her dominance. 

“Gods,” she whispered as they moved to the bed, causing her to rub against him. “I need you inside me.” Celia spread her legs as he laid her down and he crawled atop him. She took a hold of his cock and let the tip run along her so he could feel how much she wanted him. “I want you to be buried so deep that I don’t know where we begin and end.”

Robert groaned, peppering her skin with wet kisses. “Gods, I missed you,” his voice trembled as he sank into her. “Gods, Celia. Gods, I could not even think properly without you near.”

Celia threw her head back as he filled her to the hilt. She hooked her legs around his hips and hummed her content as Robert began to grind himself against her ever so slightly. 

“What do you want,” he asked her, pressing chaste kisses against her lips. “Hard or slow?”

“Slow,” Celia moaned as he began to move, rolling his hips against her as she began to feel the slow drag of his cock. “I want to feel all of you.”

“As my queen commands,” Robert said, his fingers tangling in her hair as they began to move together finding a rhythm and crying out whenever he thrust in just the right way or whenever she fluttered around him. 

This continued until she felt his thumb press against her and she cried out in pleasure, as Robert grunted against her neck, his last few thrusts a little harder and a little faster until he spilled and filled her so completely she didn’t want to move from beneath him. 

When they were finished, the exhaustion of the day set in and Robert pulled Celia to his chest and she fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating only for her. 

—

Tywin Lannister has tried to suggest a tourney at Lannisport, but Robert had not wished to be so far from his children and had set up a tournament just outside King’s Landing and had Celia organize a festival for the smallfolk, encouraging a sort of market to introduce new products and encourage children to explore their city safely. She even suggested the schools set up little plays or games to help gain more attention from those who had yet to enroll their children. 

Celia sat next to her husband during the tournament and he joked that he couldn’t participate since he didn’t wish to leave his queen’s side, but it was the truth. 

“I am sorry that I am keeping you from participating,” she whispered as they sat in their box. 

“My love,” he said, kissing her hand. “I have just returned from fighting a war, I need not find my glory in a tournament. Besides, the company is much better and sweet smelling than any I might find down there.”

Celia smiled at him and kissed his hand. 

Robert leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to her mouth at the applause of those attending. 

—

“I am glad that you are happy,” Ned told her. “Cat will be as well.”

Celia smiled at her good brother. “Tell her that I do not appreciate you almost breaking Robert’s nose.”

“I think she will find it quite funny considering I have punched a king now and have gotten no repercussions. Ser Jaime has begun to call me Kingpuncher.”

Celia giggled. “I wish that you did not have to go back North so soon.”

“I have been away for too long or else I would wait until Lysa gave birth. But I miss Cat and the boys.”

Celia smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Write to us of your journey and for when you arrive at Winterfell and give Cat my love.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and reunion sex! What more could you ask for (besides a pregnancy 😘)?


	38. Robert XIX

Jasper Arryn was born in the middle of the day, making his presence in the Red Keep known with a belligerent cry that brought his sire to tears himself. Robert chuckled as he patted his foster father on the back. Jon had always wanted to be a father, from what Robert could tell. He had been blessed with no children, no living children, until now and Jon wept at the healthy sounds of his son. 

Celia was inside the birthing chamber with her sister, Shae with them as well. The two young women had taken the younger girl under their wing and Robert wouldn’t be surprised if his wife didn’t ask for her to be given a title and a House name. He already had a few planned out to run by her at a drop of a hat. 

When the men were allowed inside, Robert smiled as Jon hastily knelt next to his wife’s bed and looked at his newborn son in utter wonder. Lysa was smiling too, she had such a healthy glow about her. Robert knew that his wife had been worried for her sister’s health, but he was glad to see that it was mostly unwarranted. 

The Arryns did not have a marriage based around affection and love as Robert and Celia’s, but there was respect there, if not a light bit of affection in that Jon gave Lysa a large amount of freedom as Celia’s closest companion. Why, Robert would even argue that, while Jon was Hand of the King, Lysa was Hand of the Queen. However, without a doubt, Robert could see that the two would love their son with their whole hearts. The House of Arryn was secure and any child that might come next, although there was no need for another now, would be counted as a blessing. 

Celia went to his side and leaned against him, tired from helping tend to her sister as Maester Pycelle assisted with the birth. Robert put his arm around her, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of her head. 

—

The summer made all of King’s Landing hot, but, at the moment, Robert’s chambers felt as though they were on fire. She sheets were all thrown off the bed and Robert looked to his wife, who laid beside him, panting until he was able to draw breath. Gods damn the blasted heat. He understood that the keep had been made for those with dragon’s blood, but this was bloody ridiculous.

Celia was the first to regain herself and shifted onto her side to curl against him. She traced some of the light scarring on his chest, the shifting of the hair by her nail caused a shiver to run up the base of his spine. Robert shifted to his side and wrapped his arms around Celia, pressing kisses to the top of her head. 

“Jasper was adorable today,” she said softly. “He’s only babbling, but Lysa and I swore he said  _ what _ , although without the last sound. He was so very adorable.”

“Aye,” Robert said, letting his fingers drag against the small of her back. “Jon spends half the council meetings talking of his son as though he were the only babe in existence. I have known the man for a majority of my life, but I have never seen him so much a fool as he is for his son.” 

Robert could feel Celia’s lips spread into a smile against his chest. He put up no resistance as Celia pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. Gods, he was already getting hard. 

“You are the same with Sansa and Mya,” she said. Robert put his hands on her hips, they were cool to the touch, but only because of the slight sheen of sweat that covered her skin. “My handsome fool.” 

“I am a fool for you, Celia,” he said, smiling. “A fool in love and happier than he has ever been in years.”

She hummed, lifting herself and shifting until they were aligned and she sank onto him, sighing in content as he grunted. She did not speak until he was sheathed completely. “I want another babe,” she told him softly. “I want so many more.” 

Robert smiled at her, rutting his hips slowly up against hers. “Then we better practice.” 

Celia smiled, leaning down to kiss him and Robert turned them onto her back.

Practice made perfect after all.

—

“Have you learned anything,” Robert asked, turning to his Master of Whispers. 

The eunuch bowed his head. “I am sorry to say that I have found evidence of who might have sired Cersei’s child, he was a soldier who served the Lannisters and was paid to be her guard in the Red Keep. It was clever, no one would question why he was around her so often.”

“Is he willing to speak and claim the boy as his own?”

Varys bowed deeply. “I am sorry to say that he could not, even if he wanted to. He was killed during the Siege of the Pyke.”

Robert grimaced. He felt bad, if the man had been the boy’s sire. Robert could not imagine dying knowing that Sansa would never be able to properly know him. “Damn it.” He looked to Varys. “Is there anyway to prove it outside his testimony?”

“He had some rather distinct features, he came from a very minor house of landed knights. I am trying to find his closest relative, who might be able to identify the child, but either Lady Cersei or her father have made sure they are being well hidden. It won’t be long before I find them, if the gods are on our side.”

Robert nodded. “You have been a great help.” He paused. “And the Targaryen children? Has Oberyn found any leads.”

“One, but I believe it is a solid one. I don’t doubt that the Targaryen children will be found and brought to their respective keeps to foster in by the year’s end.” 

Robert took a steadying breath. “Good.”

—

“I’m going to be a big sister!” Mya shouted, running up to Robert. 

He bent down and hugged his eldest daughter as Celia was kneeling as Sansa took the last hesitant steps into her arms. The two stood, each with a daughter in tow. 

“You’re already a big sister,” Robert chuckled, kissing his daughter’s curls as he opened his other arm to Celia so that he might praise and coo at his youngest. 

“Lady Celia says I’m to be a  _ BIGGER  _ sister.” Mya raised her arms and held them out as though to denote how big she would be. 

Robert’s chest warmed. He looked to his wife, who was smiling at him with all the tenderness in the world. “Truly?”

“Mm,” she said softly, reaching up to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “I confirmed it his morning.” 

Robert pressed his brow against hers. “You make me the happiest man in all the Seven Kingdoms, my love,” he said. “The happiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week has been sooooo busy because I start school this coming Monday


	39. Celia XX

Robert became a rather doting man upon learning of Celia’s pregnancy. He made it very well known how happy and excited he was for such news, promptly ordering a feast and for some of the grain stores to be open to give the people extra food for the coming week in celebration of it. 

Robert made a habit of carrying her to bed from her solar or wherever she was at the end of the day. The servants and lords and ladies of the keep happily whispered behind their hands of how much the king doted upon his wife and queen. It was obvious to everyone how much Robert cherished Celia and she would bask in the warmth of his arms whenever he carried her, even when she was not so tired that she couldn’t walk. 

“You spoil me, Robert,” she said as he carried her from the gardens to her solar. She knew he was taking time from his busy schedule to take care of her, but Celia relished in his attention. 

“I do no such thing, my love,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I am treating you as a queen.”

“A queen who could walk easily on her own.”

“But what if you trip? What if you get dizzy? What if you twist your ankle?”

“I am not so clumsy as that, Robert,” Celia chided. 

“But what if?” He reasoned. “No, I shall carry you for the entire pregnancy if I deem it fit.”

Celia rolled her eyes and hummed. “Are you truly so excited?”

“I was not the man I was today when you were pregnant with Sansa. I wish to do all that I should have then. I wish to spoil you, Celia. If anything of my reign remains in the next hundred years, let the future people of Westeros say that Robert Baratheon loves his wife with his whole heart.”

Celia smiled and lifted herself and pressed a kiss to her husband’s cheeks as he pushed open the door to her solar. 

—

_ Dearest Cat, _

_ I am happy to announce that I am once again with child! _

_ I will be surprised if this is your first time hearing of such news because I know that Lysa has been writing to you and I would be shocked if she has not let it slip. However, I can officially tell you now.  _

_ Oh, Cat! Robert has been so caring and loving. He is the man I had always dreamed of when we were children.  _

_ (I shall forgive you for having Ned punch him, his past actions did deserve such treatment.) _

_ I am so unbelievably happy, Cat. Robert is a good man and a good father. I know some queens might feel pressured to have a prince and heir, but I truly think that Robert would be happy with a daughter as well. He is so sweet on the girls and I know he would be happy for another one, even though I hope to have a son soon.  _

_ Tell me more of Winterfell and how my nephews are faring? Jasper is a joy and I am so happy that my children will at least have one cousin to spend their days with getting into all the trouble we used to in our youth.  _

_ I shall keep you updated and as that you send me more letters of your time up North and tell me how your brooding husband is doing. _

_ Your beloved littlest sister, _

_ C _

—

Celia was curled against Robert as he stroked her belly gently. 

“It’s too early for you to feel anything,” she said with a smile. “Too early for me to show as well.”

“I know,” he replied, grinning even so. “I just marvel at there being a babe in there, growing.”

“Your babe,” she said. “Will be very large. Sansa was on the bigger side too when she was born.”

“Baratheon bones,” Robert reasoned. 

“Yes, I do believe you will have to carry me everywhere for the last month or so.”

“And I will be happy to do so.”

“You shall not tire?”

“Never of you,” he replied. 

Celia pushed herself up slightly and pressed a chaste kiss to her husband’s lips. He happily cupped her cheek and kissed her back tenderly. “And I shall never grow tired of you, either.”

Robert chuckled. “In truth, my love, I am rather wanting.”

“Oh?”

“I believe supper has not sated my hunger.” His smile grew mischievous. “Would you allow me to drink from you, my love?”

Celia blushed and nodded as his hand curled between her legs. She sighed as Robert slid down the bed and began to kiss her thighs until she was squirming for more of his devoted attention. 

—

She could see him in her mind’s eye. A boy who had a face similar to Edmure’s, but with Baratheon coloring, black hair and blue eyes. A little prince for the Baratheon family to dote upon. He would have his father’s laugh and her graces. He would have his father’s strength and her wit. 

A beautiful boy. Her beautiful, beautiful boy. 


	40. Robert XX

Robert watched as his wife slept peacefully beside him. She was curled slightly around her stomach, her hair fanned like molten fire , spilling from their bed and shimmering slightly in the moonlight. 

Gods, he had been blessed with her as a wife. The gods had smiled upon him when they had Jon arrange a marriage between himself and Celia. She deserved more than him, he knew that, but regardless, he had been blessed. 

Robert pressed a kiss to her shoulder and she murmured softly at the feel of his lips and beard upon her bare skin. She wiggled slightly and pressed her back more firmly against his chest and Robert chuckled. 

He wrapped his arm around her, cupping her belly protectively, kissing her shoulder again. 

Celia hummed and put her hand over his own. “We’re both fine,” her voice came to him, rich with sleep. 

“I know,” he whispered. “I just can’t keep my hands off of you, beloved.”

“Oh,” she said. “It’s beloved now?”

Robert grunted his agreement. Although he could not see her face, he knew she was smiling too. “Aye,” he said. “It is. For I have no room for anyone but you and our girls in my heart.”

“And this son here?” She asked. 

“I will love them whether they are a boy or a girl

Celia lifted his hand and kissed his knuckles before setting it back down into her belly. 

—

“The baby is growing in the queen, right?” Mya asked innocently. 

“Yes,” Robert chuckled. “And we want to be on our best behavior to help her out, right?”

Mya nodded. “Mother said she would come to visit to help the queen.”

“That she did,” Robert agreed. “Alayna plans to come to the capital to help attend to the queen since Lady Lysa is busy with Jasper.”

“He’s so loud,” Mya pouted. 

Robert chuckled. Apparently, Mya had poked the boy's cheek and he had screamed at her. He and Celia had encouraged Mya to not do that again. “He is, but he’s a baby so he’s allowed to be.”

“Sansa wasn’t that loud.”

“No,” he said. “But every baby is different. So we have to treat them all kindly.”

“What about Joffrey?” Mya asked. “I know Lord Varys says he isn’t yours, but I heard some of the lords and ladies saying he was.”

Robert’s heart tightened in his chest slightly. “Joffrey is not mine, but I am finding a place for him that he will find happiness in.”

“But not here?”

“No,” Robert said. “Not here.”

—

“Surely you can allow some of my work to be brought to me,” Celia said from their bed, wrapped in silk and fur to keep her warm. 

“You are not well, my love,” Robert said, tucking her hair behind her ear and pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “You need to rest.”

“I’m hardly unwell,” she snorted. “It is just morning sickness from the babe. Surely I could just sleep for a few hours more and I can do my work.”

“Rest,” Robert insisted. “Else I shall stay here and we shall let Jon run the kingdom for a bit.”

“You will not neglect your duties for me, Robert,” his wife chided. 

“Then rest. You have been so tired recently. It will make me feel better if I know you are resting.” Celia pouted, but Robert kissed the soured expression away and ended the kisses with a deep one. “And perhaps if you rest long enough I shall greet you with a lord’s kiss when we retire for the evening.”

“You are baiting me, my love,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. 

“That is the plan, beloved.”

She smiled at him. “Fine. I shall rest. But for one day only, I have much to do.”

Robert kissed his wife again before readying for the day. 

—

“Have the arrangements for Lady Cersei to be moved to Casterly Rock been arranged?” Robert asked his Master of Whispers. 

“They are being arranged,” the eunuch replied. “Of course she is putting up a fuss and Lord Tywin is dragging his heels. I have plans for a Lannister carriage to pick her up by the end of the week. She insisted upon a royal carriage, but I know you do not wish to keep the rumors from spreading.” 

Robert nodded and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “And has Ser Royce accepted the request to foster the babe in the Eyrie?”

“Yes, your grace. He will need to be moved in six months so that he would be old enough to make the journey, but he is being kept in private so that no Lannister lords or their allies will try to push him into House Baratheon.”

Robert nodded. “Any news from Prince Oberyn?”

“He has found the Targaryen children and is preparing them for the journey to Westeros. They will stay in Dorne for a bit to acclimate them to the new Baratheon dynasty and then be brought before you privately and then officially.”

Robert nodded. “That’s good.”

He had been too blind to save Princess Elia and her children. At the very least he could protect his cousin Rhaella’s remaining children, even if he had Rhaegar’s blood in his hands. 

“And send Pycelle to check on the queen. She has been ill recently.”

“Of course, your grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is when everything will start to go to heck


	41. Celia XXI

Morning sickness was worse this time around. She felt so very nauseous and numb all the time. Her limbs felt like lead and she barely wished to get up in the mornings. She rarely wished to move in general unless it was to wretch into her chamberpot. 

However, she was determined to continue working. She had begun to set up a woman’s court for some of the noble ladies to have their voices heard. At first she had thought to include just the mother, wives, or sisters of the members of the small council, however that did not seem grand enough. She had gathered a few like minded women as well as a few who did not share the same concerns or priorities as her. 

There was also Lady Alayna coming to visit soon. Celia had thought to permanently invite the woman to stay in the capital. Although Robert was worried about what others might think, Celia would make sure that the invitation was extended through her and not him and that all would know it. For one, it would allow Mya to be with her mother more often where Celia would not have to be too worried for the girl with the coming baby, and Alayna had quickly become a friend and was unafraid to call Robert out on some of his actions. 

Shae was also invited to the meetings, although her place was more unofficial as she helped mind some children as along with Sansa. 

Yes, Celia was much too busy to let a little morning sickness stop her from working. 

—

“It shall be nice to have cousins close by,” Celia said cooing over Jasper. 

“Yes,” Lysa agreed. “It almost makes me wish that Father had us visit Harrenhal more often.”

Celia smiled, glad that her sister did not say that Uncle Brynden should have children. After all, he was almost like a second father to them anyway. 

“I believe the Tyrells have just had a girl, Margaery, I think it was. Perhaps we could arrange a match between her and Jasper.”

“It would be wise,” Lysa agreed. “I’m certain they hope your babe to be a boy and plan to place their daughter upon the throne. But if it is a boy, he is to marry Princess Daenerys, is he not?”

“That is the plan, to have a Targaryen queen but for the name to taper out with Prince Viserys taking upon the Martell name. This the end might look less bloody.”

“Yes, history will never look kindly upon the end of Princess Elia and her children.”

“No, they will not,” Celia agreed. “I had almost thought of naming Sansa after the princess, but I believe the name should be reserved for the Martells and their children.”

“Mm.”

“Well,” Celia said as a certain smell began to permeate her nostrils. “I think someone would like a change.”

Lysa chuckled. “That my precious boy does.”

—

“Oh, Ser Jaime,” Celia said as the knight was about to leave for the evening. 

He turned. “Yes, my queen?”

“I thought I should tell you that Alayna has written that she would most definitely like to remain in the Red Keep on a more permanent basis.”

She smiled as the Lannister knight’s cheeks turned bright red. 

“Your grace.”

“We all deserve happiness Jaime,” she said. 

“Besides, I thought I should warn you since I know Alayna does not appear to be, well, subtle.”

Jaime continued to blush. “Yes, your grace.”

Celia merely grinned and entered her chambers to get ready for bed. 

—

Celia was not feeling well that morning. Maester Purcell had checked on her and had given her some smelling salts to help her with her energy, however she still felt awful. However, she could not simply lay in bed all day. She had so much to do. 

She had to prepare a small feast for Stannis and his new wife and to prepare the rooms for the guests. She needed to do so many things to ready the keep for everyone. 

It was almost dizzying how much she needed to do. 

“Calm down, Celia,” Lysa said, walking briskly next to her. “Everything will be ready on time. This is why you have servants to help, Celia.”

“I know, but I need to make everything perfect. I know Stannis was not pleased with how Robert gave him Dragonstone, but I wish to show that his brother does care and wishes to make things right with him.”

“I’m certain Lord Stannis will understand your sincerity if it’s not perfect. You are with child and have been so sick recently.”

Celia narrowed her eyes as she continued to walk. Everything was turning blurry. She tried to blink the vision away, but black spots began to form in them instead.

“Celia?”

She had stopped moving? When had she stopped moving?

Slowly, the hall began to tip on its side and her body felt heavy. 

“Celia!”

Everything went black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun DUUUUUUUN!


	42. Robert XXI

Robert’s legs stopped working when Ser Jaime burst into the small council chamber shouting that Celia had collapsed. He fell to his knees for a moment before forcing himself upwards and scrambling out of the meeting room and rushing out to his and Celia’s chambers. 

It was as though all the breath in his lungs had grown stale, as though his very bones were on fire, numbing his body as worry and concern coursed through his body like blood. He had not felt like save for when he heard that she had been attacked when Celia was pregnant with Sansa. But this… This was different. 

_ Don’t take her from me _ , he prayed. By all the gods, if they took her from him he would tear the Sept of Baelor brick by brick for they were pointless gods to pray to if they could not protect a woman who so honorably served them. 

Robert threw open the door to his room, not caring who he was disturbing in their work. He lost the use of his legs once more when he realized that Celia was awake, although pale and sweating slightly. He stumbled towards their bed and cupped her cheek in his hand. 

“Are you well, dearest?” his voice cracked and tears began to prick at his vision as Celia put her hand over his own. 

“I was just dizzy,” she assured him. “Perhaps I had not eaten enough this morning or the sickness left me on the weaker side.” She began to stroke his hand with her thumb before taking his hand and putting it over her belly. “I’m well, the baby is well.” 

Robert brought her hand to his lips and kissed it firmly. “I told you to stay abed, my love.”

“And I have never been one to take orders from my husband,” she reasoned. “However, I shall stay abed for your benefit.”

Robert chuckled. “Aye, for my benefit.” He turned to look at Lysa who was tending to her. “Thank you for having her brought here.” 

Lysa shook her head. “I could not have carried her myself. My lord husband deserves some praise.” She looked at Jon with a small amount of pride. “I was unaware my husband was able to carry so great a weight nor carry it so quickly.” 

Robert looked to Jon and found his foster father blushing slightly. “Thank you.”

Jon shook his head as well. “All that matters is the queen’s health. I have already sent for the maester.” 

“I am well enough now, Robert,” Celia said. “I know you and Jon have a council meeting. Please, do not delay it on my account.”    
Robert stood and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “I shall wait until the maester informs me that you are well.”

—

“Well?” Robert ased. He had been told to step aside so that the maester could take a proper look at Celia and it did nothing to calm his nerves, although he understood that he needed to allow Pycelle to do his work. 

“I cannot seem to find anything wrong with the queen,” Maester Pycelle stated. “However, I would prefer to keep an eye on her and check on her daily, more than once would be preferred. All pregnancies are different, your grace and this one might simply be a little more difficult than the one with the princess.” 

Robert frowned but then returned to Celia’s side, sitting upon the bed and stroking her hair to calm himself from wringing the older man’s neck. He kissed the top of Celia’s head. “Are you certain.” 

“I told you I was fine, Robert,” Celia said. “I will simply step back from some of my duties as queen. Lysa can perform and Alayna can help when she arrives and the two can run things by me if they need assistance.”

“You need rest, my love.” 

“And the Seven Kingdoms need their queen. I promise I shall step back and take things easier. I simply wish to remain involved with my projects to some degree.” 

“Alright,” he agreed, although begrudgingly. “However, if I hear anything from Shae or Lysa that you are overworking yourself, I shall confine you to this bed and they are to bring the information to myself instead.” 

His wife’s lips formed a thin line, but she agreed. “Fine.” 

He smiled at her and pressed another kiss to the top of her head. He motioned to Pycelle and the others in the room. “You may leave us for a moment.” 

The others left and Robert was alone with his wife. 

“I care about nothing else save for you and our family, Celia,” he said. “I cannot focus if I am worried for you and the health of our babe.” 

“I know,” she replied. “However, I am fine. It was just a dizzy spell, the maester did not seem too worried. Just focus on your duties in the day and your nights can be mine and you can worry all you wish then.” 

He smiled at her, pressing a chaste kiss to her lips. “Alright.” 

—

Celia insisted on going to the gardens with Sansa, not wishing to disrupt their usual schedule with their daughter. Robert carried his wife and Shae carried Sansa. 

“She is beautiful, isn’t she?” Celia asked. 

“She might have my coloring,” Robert said as she watched Sansa toddle around grabbing at leaves and flowers, happy. He was glad that he had taken out all the roses, now thinking about the thorns. “But she is all you, my love.” 

Celia smiled at him. “I think the babe shall look like you as well.”

“Aye, most Baratheons tend to have the same coloring, but I pray that the babe will have a good head on their shoulders like you.”

“And no doubt have the stubborn nature we both carry with pride.” 

He chuckled. “You are not too stubborn, my love.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Alright, perhaps a little stubborn, but only when you need to be.”

“I have to,” she said. “To be married to such a stubborn man.” 

Robert smiled. “I am bullheaded, aren’t I?”

“So much so that I am surprised that the Baratheon sigil is not that of a bull and your words are not _ we are the pride _ .” 

“It appears my family was not forward thinking enough, I suppose.” 

“Shame on them for not thinking so far ahead.” 

Celia smiled and pressed a tender kiss to his lips and Robert leaned forward and returned it with equal tenderness. 

—

“The Lannister faction has been moving since the queen’s retreat has become more public knowledge,” Lord Varys said carefully. 

Robert’s lips formed a tight line. “And?”

“Rumors, which have more than likely been started at Casterly Rock, have begun to spread that the bastard Joffrey is, indeed, your son and that the queen’s possible declining health is a reason to push the boy as your heir since you have no trueborn son yet by the queen.” 

Robert scoffed. “It appears that Lord Tywin has no ears in the Citadel or that the people there are too wary of a man who would gladly rob his sept if it put gold in his pocket. He is unaware that I have legally and properly named Sansa as my heir and Stannis as her regent should Celia and I not be with her.”

“If they do know, they might wish to have a dance of stags.”

“Yes, afterall, the first Dance of Dragons was between Princess Rhaenyra and her half-brother Aegon II. The difference is that I have never claimed Joffrey as my son and he is a bastard instead of a trueborn child from a second marriage.” 

“Yes, but I am sure they wish to draw such a parallel.”

“Lord Tywin’s lust for power is absolute that I do not think he can see how foolish his injured pride can make him. Yes, I bedded his daughter and I have attempted to pay recompense, but he refuses it. I have made a place for his grandson to be fostered, although he is no son of mine, and I am married to the queen whose family is connected to my own family and two of the most noble houses in Westeros and we have already allied ourselves with the Martells and I have no doubt that during the reign of my future son and and Princess Daenserys’ reign Dorne will sue for independence and I have almost no doubt it will be granted.” 

“Lions get dangerous when they sense themselves in a corner, your grace.” 

“Yes,” Robert agreed. “However, I have no doubt that Lord Tywin has garnered support through fear while I have garnered it through a much stronger base. Send word to Lord Walder Frey and see how he might like to have a grandson upon the seat at Casterly. Perhaps the Reynes shall be avenged? I fear Lord Tywin has made too many enemies to remain in his seat for long.” 


	43. Celia XXII

Celia was made to stay in their bed for extended parts of the day. She got up to eat her meals at the table brought into their rooms and she occasionally went to the gardens, but Robert always carried her there, not wanting her to overexert herself. Robert had become rather protective and sheltering of her as she grew a little weaker. 

A simple cold, she had decided upon her diagnosis herself and she could not be told otherwise. 

At least she enjoyed the proximity in which Robert had placed himself. He had moved his desk to their chambers so he might work quietly as she slept or rested or read the occasional history. Occasionally, her husband would climb into bed with her and go over treaties and proposals as she rested her head against him, her arm slung around his hips. She liked feeling the warmth of him as she slept, it made her feel secure. 

Robert had moved the small council meetings to their solar just outside the bedroom door. He kept it open in case she needed to call for him, but she tended to offer small bits of advice whenever she heard something she felt needed input. He had placed the council table and his seat in such a way that she could see him from her place in bed. 

Celia enjoyed watching him work, the way his blue eyes would harden as he focused. The way he would run his fingers through his hair or scratch absently at his beard. He had a habit of working his jaw too whenever he was listening. Stannis had privately told her, when she had told him her observation, that Robert used to stick his tongue out when he thought as a child, but the tutors had broken said habit. Her good brother was under the impression that this was simply a more hidden continuation of the habit. 

She enjoyed listening to his deep voice rumble through their rooms. It was his king voice. She had learned to tell his voices apart, whenever he was trying to fit within a certain role. When he was a king, when he was a brother, when he was a friend, when he was a father, when he was an advisor, when he was a soldier, when he was a general, when he was a husband, when he was a lover. 

She loved listening to him work, but she liked it best when he was by her side in their bed and she could feel the steady beat of his heart and the rumble of his chest as he hummed to her. Her husband only sang for his children, but he only ever hummed for her. It was a soothing thing, a gentle calm that overcame her as though she were being rocked in a boat, adrift peacefully upon a lake or sea. 

“Robert.”

“Hm?”

“I love you.” 

He pressed his lips against her brow. “And I love you, my darling.” 

—

Celia was in the Sept of Baelor and she could not for the life of her remember why she was there. It was not time for a sermon and everyone was far too well dressed for such a simple sermon. Was someone getting married?

She tried to think of all the ladies who had recently gotten betrothals and she could not, for the life of her, think of anyone who would be marrying so soon. Oh, she had forgotten to send a gift. 

But where was Robert? Why was she not standing beside him? Why was she not holding Sansa as she wished to happy couple a prosperous marriage?

Celia looked up at the altar to see who it was and then her stomach dropped at the sight. 

Cersei was standing, proud and tall, a dress of gold and a red, a cloak of black and yellow. A crown upon her head fit for a queen. Robert blank faced and lifeless beside her. 

Then, she heard Sansa crying. 

Her baby needed her. Her daughter needed her. Celia began to push against the crowd as she tried to flee, tried to find where her daughter was. 

All the while, she heard Cersei’s cold laughter echo across the sept until it was ringing in Celia’s ears. 

Celia awoke with a cry and Robert had her in his arms in an instant. 

“Sansa,” she pleaded. “I need Sansa, please, Robert. Please.” 

Her husband pressed a tender kiss to her lips and called for Jaime to bring Sansa to them.

“And Mya, please.” 

Soon enough, their girls were settled between them. Celia’s arms were around the little ones and Robert’s arm was around all three of them, holding them close and Celia knew he would protect them. 

—

“I am sorry that you are not spending more time with Mya,” Celia said gently as Alayna helped tend to her. 

“Nonsense,” the valewoman tutted. “You’re my queen and, more importantly, my friend. Besides, I think Robert feels more at ease when Lysa and I are both here to look after you when he is forced to hear the petitions of the people.”

“The oaf actually had the audacity to suggest he meet the people in his bloody solar,” Lysa muttered. “Imagine the security measures that would need to be in place. And he always wishes to keep your door open. It’s one thing for his closest advisors to see you in your nightgown. It is another to have any man off the street of King’s Landing to see you.” 

Celia giggled softly. “I think he is being sweet.” 

“You make your husband a fool, sweet sister,” Lysa said. “I swear, you could ask him for a star and he would no doubt have something built so he could fetch one for you, not even contemplating the impossibility of the task.”

“He would not.”

“My dear,” Alyana said. “He most certainly would. The man is completely weak when it comes to pleasing you. Robert becomes a greenboy whenever he is around you, attempting to please you.”

“I am already pleased by him,” Celia said gently. 

“Yes, but he wishes to spoil you,” Lysa countered.

“I am certain he has done some wonderful things rather recently to please you,” Alyana said, smirking.

“Alayna!” Celia squeaked, scandalized. 

“I have been with the man, I can say with complete confidence that he is more wholly invested in his time with you than he is with anything else, hence the willingness to get you the stars if you ask for them.” 

Celia blushed. “And is that Ser Jaime and you?”

“I am not so easily embarrassed, your grace,” Alayna sniffed. “Ser Jaime and I have an understanding and it is thrilling when we get the time together.”

“The scandal,” Lysa said. 

“Oh, it is far more tame than anything else that happens in this keep.”

“True,” Lysa admitted. 

“Now,” Alayna said. “I think I will attempt to beat you both at cards.” 

—

She awoke to Robert speaking to someone at their door. 

“Robert?”

Her husband turned and she realized he had been speaking to Lord Varys. He turned to speak with the eunuch for a moment longer, but could not make out what he was saying. Robert closed the door, the conversation apparently over and returned to their bed.

“What is it, my love?” he asked, crawling next to her and settling her in his arms. 

“What were you speaking to Lord Varys of?”

“You need not worry on it, Celia,” he said, pressing sweet kisses to her brow.

“But…” 

“You need not worry.”

“Is it something I should worry about?”

He shook his head and pressed his nose to her hair. “Just know I am doing all I can to protect our family.”

Celia nodded, sleep claiming her once more before she even realized it. 


	44. Robert XXII

“Robert, you need to sleep,” Stannis said, leaning against the entryway to Robert’s solar. He glanced at the open door to the royal bedchamber and then back to Robert. “No one would fault you for leaving your duties to your Hand and your council. You went to war for a girl you hardly knew.” He paused. “To be fair, your neck was also quite literally on the line, but I digress. You went to war for Lyanna Stark, no one would think less of you if you slack upon your duties to spend your hours with Celia or your daughters.” 

“I can’t,” Robert said, pouring over the documents as best he could, while worry itched the back of his brain, begging him to find whatever had harmed his wife and destroy it. 

His brother sighed and walked to him. “You can. Please, Robert, I beg you. Even if it is for only half the day.” 

“If I show any weakness, you know as well as I do that Tywin Lannister will find a way to sink his claws into the court.”

“Is that why you have more men guarding Sansa and Mya?’ 

Robert nodded. “I need everyone in my family protected. Even Renly has an extra guard with him.” 

Stannis sighed again. “That does not mean you shouldn’t rest. You are working yourself to the ground. Surely I, at the very least, can lighten your load. No one need know it was not you. I can do the work here with the door closed and you can spend time with the queen. Please, Robert. If you don’t rest, you will be no good to us at all.” 

Robert took a shaky breath. “I will rest for three days.” 

Stannis nodded. “That’s all I ask.” 

—

_ Prince Doran,  _

_ I have no doubt that you have already heard of the queen’s ailment. As my wife would have been the one in charge of Daenerys Targaryen’s management and upbringing, I cannot, in good conscience, allow the child to come to the Red Keep quite yet and ask that she be fostered in Dorne until further notice.  _

_ While I have no doubt there are many capable women to see to the girl’s upbringing, I know for a fact that my wife would find it to be her duty to care for the child and do not wish to add to her stress. I shall send an allowance for both of the Targaryen children so that their stay in Sunspear might not affect your purse. I apologize for this inconvenience, but until my wife is in better health, I would feel better with the children in your care where no lions might gain access to them.  _

_ Once more, I apologize that this was not what our initial agreement was, but I cannot allow my wife to feel as though she needs to pick up her duties. I am certain you, of all people, would understand and I am forever in your debt for allowing me to use your brothers for issues of the crown. I owe you a great debt. If you are ever in need of something, I beg that you let me know so that I might help you.  _

_ Robert Baratheon _

—

_ Your grace, _

_ Do not worry about the Targaryen children. They shall be under my protection until the Lady Daenerys can be sent to the Red Keep. I think, perhaps, it might even be wise to extend her stay in Dorne anyway. The girl has been on the move quite constantly and I believe allowing herself and her brother a moment to experience a safe environment together will do wonders for both of the children.  _

_ I thank you for the money to be sent, although it is unnecessary. I welcome it nonetheless as an act of goodwill between our families and pray to all the gods that our relationship continues to grow as your dynasty is further established. My family’s prayers are also with the queen and your unborn child. May she regain her strength soon. I do not know the queen personally, but my brother thinks highly of her and that is all that I need to know to understand that the queen is a good and generous person.  _

_ By the time you are receiving this letter, I have sent out the maester of Sunspear to look at the queen as well. While I am certain your maester is adequate, it is always wise to get a second opinion and to not exhaust one man with an entire keep while also having to tend to the pregnant queen. My man should arrive swiftly and I hope that he is able to help you in your time of need.  _

_ Doran Martell _

—

“Your grace,” Lord Varys bowed at the room’s entrance. 

Robert was sitting next to his wife, who was fast asleep, her hand held firmly between his. “What is it?” 

“It appears the Lady Cersei has been asking for you and her son.” 

Robert exhaled sharply through his nose. “Have her departure for Casterly Rock made sooner. The boy, Joffrey, will be sent to the Eyrie, once he is a little older, he shall be sent immediately. And make sure that none who are near him are of the Lannister pocket.” 

“At once, your grace.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but the next chapter will be full of ANGST


	45. Celia XXIII

While her body ached, at least her belly began to swell. She felt some content in that. Even though Celia felt weak to it all, her body numb and heavy, her belly grew. Her babe was still thriving and she felt glad in it. Surely she was not so badly sick that her body could provide for the child growing inside her. Proof of her husband’s love and affection for her. A child born from love and tenderness. 

“I want to sit in the gardens,” she told her husband as he sat beside her, letting her curl into his side, his hand protectively around her swollen belly. 

“You are not well, my love,” Robert said gently, kissing her temple. “The maester does not think it wise to move you often.”

“Then could you bring the garden here?” she asked. “I wish to see the flowers, surely the maester does not think the smell would affect me.” 

Robert kissed her gently. “Alright, my love. I shall be back in a moment.”

He left the room and Celia closed her eyes, rubbing her belly tenderly. She wanted her babe to be a son, but she knew that Robert would love them regardless. Another babe with dark hair and blue eyes like their siblings. They would be a happy family. All of them, would they not?

The door to their room opened again and in came dozens and dozens of flowers from the garden. Daisies, lavender, and all the flowers that she could think of. The room began to turn into a garden itself. 

Robert entered her bed again once and Celia smiled up at him. “Thank you, my love.” 

“Anything for you, Celia,” he whispered gently as they turned to look at the garden room. “Anything.”

—

Sansa laid between them. She had been fussy without her mother tending to her. The maester had confirmed that whatever had plagued Celia would not be transferred to her daughter. The little girl held onto both of her parents, her fists wrapped firmly onto their fingers, one each hand, as though to keep them all together. The sweet girl scowled slightly as her eyelids grew heavy. 

“You need to sleep, sweet girl,” Celia said, kissing her daughter’s hand. 

“She’s about as stubborn as I am, my love,” Robert said. “I believe she will not listen to reason.”

“Perhaps her father might encourage her,” Celia said, smiling at her husband. 

“Aye,” he said. “And what should I do?”

“Stannis told me you used to sing to Renly when he was a boy,” she said. “Sing to her, my love. I think she would like to hear you sing to her.” 

Robert chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t mean you would wish to hear me sing?”

“That as well.” 

“I am not the best singer,” he told her honestly. 

“It matters not,” she said. “Please, something your mother used to sing to you perhaps.” 

Robert seemed to think for a moment before he looked down at their precious girl and began to sing. 

_ A gentle breeze from Hushabye Mountain _

_ Softly blows over Lullaby Bay, _

_ It fills the sails of boats that are waiting, _

_ Waiting to sail your worries away. _

His voice was deep and lovely and almost haunting. She wondered how many had sung this song to their children. How many children had found themselves brought to their dreams on such a wondrous melody. Robert rubbed his thumb along Sansa’s hand as he smiled through the song. 

_ It isn't far to Hushabye Mountain, _

_ And your boat waits down by the quay. _

_ The winds of night sdo softly are sighing, _

_ Soon they will fly your troubles to sea. _

Sansa’s grip on their hands grew tighter, but loosened after a moment. She was trying so hard to stay awake, but her mouth formed a perfect  _ o _ as she yawned. Her grip tightened again as she fussed a little to stretch. 

_ So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, _

_ Wave goodbye to cares of the day, _

_ And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain _

_ Sail far away from Lullaby Bay. _

Sansa seemed so close to sleep as her grip on their hands began to loosen and Celia slopped her finger out of her daughter’s grasp and put it on her little belly at pat it gently along with the rhythm of the song. 

_ So close your eyes on Hushabye Mountain, _

_ Wave goodbye to cares of the day, _

_ And watch your boat from Hushabye Mountain _

_ Sail far away from Lullaby Bay. _

Robert kissed Sansa’s hand as she slowly drifted, at last, to sleep. 

—

Uncle Brynden had come to visit her. 

It reminded her of when she was a child, whenever she or her siblings would catch a chill. Her uncle would often hum to her softly as he would brush away the damp hair from her brow. 

“Your father and brother wanted to be here, lass,” he said tenderly, his movements just as they had been when she was a girl. 

“It’s the rainy season of the Riverlands,” she said softly. “The people need him.”

Her uncle sighed. “I’ll be with you until you get better,” he promised. “It gives me an excuse to pamper my grand niece and nephew.”

She smiled at him. “I’m sure they will love that.” Celia paused. “And Uncle?”

“Yes?” 

“Speak to Lord Renly,” she said. “I think he might benefit from your council. He has not spoken to me of it, but Robert and Lord Stannis have spoken on it. I’m certain having someone like himself to look up to would do wonders. Let him know he is not alone in his preferences.” 

Uncle Brynden kissed her hand. “Aye, lass. I’ll do that. I know I would have been welcome to someone speaking to me of things that others could not.” 

Celia smiled at him. “And Uncle?” 

“Yes, sweetling?”

“I’m so scared.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared.” 

“Maester Pycelle saw to me when Robert was forced to look over the armory,” she said. “He told me the babe was developing well.”

“That’s good.” 

“But he feared the strain of childbirth.” 

“That’s a long ways away.” 

“But I do not know how long this illness will last,” she said quietly. “If I am ill when the child comes, I need you to promise me that you will make sure the babe is put first. If it comes down to the two of us, I ask that you make sure the babe survives.” 

“Celia—”

“This babe may be a son,” she said. “And Robert will need a proper heir while Cersei continues to push that hers is of his blood. Please,” she begged. “If it came down to it, Robert would choose me, but I want this child to live. Please.” 

Her uncle squeezed her hand, but he did not promise her.

—

Celia watched as her husband and daughter slept. She watched as all the stress of the day melt away from her husband’s expression. Her family, her family. She had always dreamed about this as a girl and now it was hers. Her husband and daughter. 

Sansa began to grow fussy. Celia began to hush her daughter, trying not to wake her husband up. Her voice grew softly, not letting it get too loud. Robert hummed, but did not wake. 

_ Hush now, my baby _

_ Be still love, don't cry. _

_ Sleep like you're rocked by the stream. _

_ Sleep and remember _

_ my lullaby. _

_ And I'll be with you when you dream. _

Sansa would be a beautiful woman one day. Her daughter would be the crown jewel of the royal house of Baratheon. She would be loved and cherished and whoever married her would be a lucky man. Celia just hoped that she would be allowed to see it. 

_ Drift on a river _

_ that flows through my arms. _

_ Drift as I'm singing to you. _

_ I see you smiling _

_ so peaceful and calm. _

_ And holding you, I'm smiling too. _

_ Here in my arms _

_ safe from all harm. _

_ Holding you, I'm smiling too. _

Robert was still asleep, peaceful and gentle. He was hers and she was his. She could not imagine her life without him. She hated the rebellion and all the pain it had brought to her and her family, but if it was the path that gave her Robert, she would not regret it. 

_ Hush now, my baby _

_ Be still love, don't cry. _

_ Sleep like you're rocked by the stream. _

_ Sleep and remember this river lullaby. _

_ And I'll be with you when you dream. _

_ I'll be with you when you dream. _

Sansa grew calm again and Celia watched Robert and Sansa sleep on and wondered if she would be able to give them a proper goodbye if they time came for it.


	46. Robert XXIII

“You are pushing yourself too hard, my love,” Celia said gently, stroking his hair as they laid in bed, his hand cupped protectively around her belly. It felt as though his wife were slowly wasting away and yet their child grew, not noticing how much they seemed to tax their mother. “Please, you must rest.” 

“I have rested so much already,” he replied softly. 

“And it is still not enough,” his wife pressed a kiss to his brow. “I know you do this so that you do not have to spend all your time fretting, but you are. You are only making yourself worse.” 

Robert looked up at Celia, her blue eyes narrowed in worry and her nails scraping against his scalp. He took her hand and pressed it against his cheek. “If I do nothing, I will worry for you and only you and I shall waste away.” 

Celia slid down and onto the bed and into his arms. “You shall waste away if you do not rest. Please, my love,” she begged. “Rest for a day or two more. I beg you.” 

Robert kissed the top of her head. “Forgive me, my queen. If I do not work as I do, I will break.” 

—

Robert rocked his youngest daughter as she cried. She wished to be with her mother but Celia had a slight fever and Robert did not wish to burden her or the unborn babe. She would push herself far too much if he brought Sansa to her. 

He had been given news that the Targaryen children were settling well in Sunspear and that the little girl would be ready to come to court whenever Robert was able to call for her. How Rhaegar Targaryen was able to leave his wife and children, as well as his mother and siblings to their own devices, with only Ser Jaime to protect them was beyond Robert’s understanding.

And what he allowed to happen to Princess Elia and her children…

Regardless of what good he hoped to accomplish one day, he knew that all the gods, old and new, would damn him to the deepest of the seven hells for what he allowed to happen to the princess and her children. 

“I promise your mother will be able to look after you soon, my sweet girl,” Robert promised. “She just needs rest.” 

—

“I want you to investigate Maester Pycelle,” Robert said, turning to Lord Varys. 

“Do you not trust him, your grace?” the Master of Whispers asked. 

“He served the Targaryens, he assisted Princess Elia.” Robert tightened his hands into fists. “Tell me, my lord, does the queen’s condition remind you any of Princess Elia’s?”

“It is rather similar, your grace,” Lord Varys said. “Especially with the second pregnancy being much more difficult. Princess Elia was of frail health to begin with and the two pregnancies were close together. However…”

“However?”

“It is suspect how difficult the pregnancies have been along with all of Queen Rhaella’s issues.” The eunuch paused. “Her earlier pregnancies should not have been so abysmal. Forgive me, your grace. I should have put these thoughts together sooner.”

“Continue the investigation,” Robert said. “The Martell maester should be arriving tomorrow. Have Maester Pycelle be given a few days off and claim it to be for his years of service to the crown.”

“Yes, your grace.”

—

Maester Caleotte was a short, balding man that, if Robert were just giving a passing glance, would have thought there was some relation to Lord Varys, no matter how impossible the idea would be. He was a kind looking man and bowed upon his meeting with Robert at the gates of the city. 

“Thank you for coming, Maester,” Robert said. 

“Even in Dorne we have much respect for Queen Celia,” the man said. “It will be my honor to help her, your grace. I would be happy to examine her now. There is no need to wait.”

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter. Next week will be longer


	47. Celia XXIV

Robert’s hand was warm in her own as the Dornish maester examined her. The man had a kind face and Celia was inclined to trust him. She recalled Elia speaking highly of the man and if Elia had trusted him then so would Celia. 

The thought of the Dornish princess made her heart ache. Not a day went by that Celia did not miss Elia and Ashara and the children. If the gods were good, she would have been able to marry Robert with her friends and the children alive and well. Yet… yet she felt selfish to say that she would not give up her life with Robert to get them back, she would not trade Sansa or the child she carried to bring them back. She knew that Elia would not ask her to trade them, yet she still felt selfish in such resistance. 

“How is the babe, Maester Caleotte?” Celia asked, pulling her thoughts away. 

“The babe is active and appears well, your grace,” the man said. “I believe you have another three months before they shall be ready to be borne, but they seem to be well developed and your condition does not seem to have affected them.”

Celia sighed in relief. 

“However, I wish to examine you, my queen. You have not fared well in this. Have you been eating properly?”

“I can only manage soups,” she admitted and Robert squeezed her hand, pressing a kiss to her temple as well. “Anything greater and I cannot keep it down.”

The maester hummed in concern and asked that she open her mouth so that he might examine her throat. Celia did as instructed and the man grunted upon seeing it. He took her pulse then and began to write his notes. 

“I have brought my own books and shall continue observation, but I shall give you a moment to rest as I read up on some possible theories.”

Celia smiled. “Thank you, Maester Caleotte.”

The Dornish man smiled and bowed his head respectfully. 

—

Jaime and Stannis had to all but drag Robert to Celia’s private bed so that he could sleep for an hour or so. Young Renly was assuring Celia that he would sit on Robert’s back so that he would not move, causing Stannis to cuff his ear, but both brothers were smiling. 

Lysa and Alayna were left to attend her for a few hours of respite from Robert’s worrying. Although, Lysa was just as worried as her husband was. “Cat is sending letters near every day,” her older sister said. “By all the gods I swear she is sending them hourly from Winterfell.”

Celia chuckled. “She can not help it. She was a mother at three.”

“Yes,” Lysa agreed. “The Mother made flesh.”

“I would quite like to meet your sister,” Alayna said. “She sounds quite the character.”

“In all the best ways,” both Celia and Lysa said, smiling at each other. 

“And how are you and Ser Jaime?” Lysa asked. “I have heard many rumors recently?”

“Rumors?” Celia asked. She had been quite out of the loop since falling ill. 

Lysa smiled wickedly as Alayna’s cheeks turned bright red. “Rumors that a certain golden knight was seen exiting a certain lady’s chambers.”

“No,” Celia said, smiling. 

“Oh it is quite the scandal,” Lysa assured her. 

“It is not what you think,” Alayna tried to reason. 

“Isn’t it?” Lysa countered. “The knight seemed utterly besotted.”

“That is because…” Alayna paused, trying to think of an excuse. Her cheeks grew redder by the second. “He is very kind.”

“I am very happy for you, Alayna,” Celia said. “And for Jaime. You both deserve happiness.”

“He is a member of the kingsguard,” Alayna said. “I know nothing true can come of it… but even so.”

Celia took her friend’s hand. “I am certain something can be done,” she said. “Just give me time and I will try to have your happiness assured.”

—

Robert was restless that night because he had napped for three hours earlier in the day. Once he had fallen asleep, neither of his advisors felt it right to wake him, he had been working far too hard. 

Now, though, he was restless and held Celia in his arms, her back pressed to his chest as he ran his calloused hands over her bare belly. “Now that Maester Caleotte is here, I am certain we shall find out how to help you.”

Celia smiled and put her hand over Robert’s before bringing it to her lips. He kissed the back of her neck, his beard tickling at her skin. 

“There is something you could do,” she said gently. 

“And that would be?”

“I believe Alayna and Jaime have begun to have feelings for one another,” she said. There was no reason to imply that the relationship might have grown physical. “I think I have an idea of how one might put them together.”

“Oh?” Robert asked, kissing her neck again. “And how shall you manage to release a celibate knight from his vows and promote Alayna to a position where she might marry a lord above her rank?”

“Give him the option of leaving his vows,” she said. “He has proven his loyalty to our family and he was made a kingsguard by the Mad King in an attempt to undermine Lord Tywin Lannister. Or I think it would be wise for the celibacy vow to be dropped altogether.”

“My love, you know why it is in place.”

“To ensure that they would not run off to protect their families instead of our own in the case of attack. Which leads me to how Alayna might be elevated to marry a lord’s son.”

“Which would be?”

“I would like Alayna to be promoted as an official companion to the queen, sharing the position of Lysa as my main ladies maids. Alayna would be given the title of Lady and perhaps a temporary house name of Alayna Mount.”

“And how do you propose this would keep with the kingsguard being allowed to wed?”

“Their wives must be approved by me as they will serve as my retinue and confidants for different matters of the women’s court just as the kingsguard occasionally serve you. They would be willing to protect me and our family as their own family would be present with me and our children should we be attacked.”

Robert hummed behind her, his chest rumbling against her back. “I shall speak to Jon of it, beloved, and see what he thinks.”

—

When Maester Caleotte returned to her after a few days of examination, he was pale. 

“Is everything alright, Maester?” She asked. 

“Have you figured out the issue?” Robert was beside her once more, holding her hand. 

“Yes, your grace.” However, the man paused. 

“Well?” Robert demanded. 

“The queen has been poisoned.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Robert is going to be on a warpath now


	48. Robert XXIV

“The queen has been poisoned.”

If it were not for Celia’s delicate hand in his, Robert felt as though he would be lost and adrift at sea. It was a s though the world had shifted beneath him and he was no longer certain of what his life meant, what it’s purpose was. 

He had only ever felt such a sensation twice before in his life. 

The first time was when he had watched the ships that carried his parents get dragged to the sea, hearing the screams of everyone on board until they sank into oblivion. 

The second time was when he heard of Lady Lyanna’s abduction. He thought of the danger she would be in at the hand of a married man whose reputation would be secure. Of a man who had complete and utter power over her. 

No… perhaps this was the fourth time. 

For the third time Robert felt lost was when he had first heard his pregnant wife had been attacked by an assassin. 

This… this was the fourth time. 

“Ser Jaime,” Robert called. “I ask that you, my brother, and Lord Arryn round up any who came into contact with the queen’s food and drink since before she collapsed the first time. I want them all questioned. There is no need for force unless they refuse to speak on the matter.” He turned to the maester. “Might I ask you to assist.”

“Of course, your grace,” the balding man said. “I shall help search for the poison and who might have it.”

“Robert,” Celia said, her voice quivering. 

“You need not worry, dearest,” he said gently. “I shall not let any more harm come to you. You are safe now. I swear it.”

—

“Why did you not know of this sooner!” Robert demanded. 

“Your grace,” Lord Varys said in his defense. “While I am a master of whispers and secrets, I am not all knowing.”

“My wife was being poisoned, your  _ queen’s  _ life threatened and you knew nothing!” Robert shouted. He had left for a brief moment to allow Celia to be properly cared for by the Dornish maester, and now he could feel nothing but rage. “What is the point of you if you cannot protect the royal family from those who would harm us?!”

“Your grace, I swear I shall—”

“This comes from the same man who hid when the Sack happened, leaving Princess Elia and her children alone. This comes from the same man who apparently had no idea where Rhaegar took the Lady Lyanna or that he even intended to take her. This comes from the same man who served the Mad King faithfully as he burned Lord Rickard Stark and had Brandon Stark strangled. Forgive me, my lord, if I know put everything you have ever said to me into question.”

“My king—”

“Until this matter is cleared, know that your place upon my council shall be questioned. Your place in this very keep shall be questioned. You claim to be on the side of the people, my lord, but the things I have mentioned put the lives of the very people you say to serve at risk. Begone from my sight for you are not worth my rage. Begone!”

—

“The babe appears to be fine,” Maester Caleotte said as he began a regiment of antidotes to help with Celia. “They are active and appear to behave perfectly fine.”

“Thank you, Maester,” Celia said, smiling at the man. “The gods have surely blessed a kind man such as yourself.”

“You are too kind, your grace,” he said. “And you have been blessed with such a loving husband.”

Celia smiled up at Robert. “He is very loving.” She turned back to the maester. “Do you perhaps have a calming tea that might help him rest. As much as he is loving, he is caring and doting. My husband is quite the worrywort. And if I am to make a recovery, I need my husband to not collapse from exhaustion.”

“If I spend my life worrying for you, my love,” Robert said. “It is well worth it.”

She shook her head and kissed his hand. 

“I have some tea that shall help the king sleep and have a good rest as you gain back your strength.”

“Thank you,” Celia said smiling. 

Robert smiled as well as his wife regained a more healthy glow about her. 

—

Ser Jaime kicked Maester Pycelle in the back to the ground before Robert upon his throne. 

“The poison was found in his private study,” the Lannister knight said. “We apprehended some under his employ as well.”

Robert raged. “Lock him in the black cells,” he ordered. “He shall be given no food or water. He shall suffer before he meets his fate at trial.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like Varys, but honestly....


	49. Celia XXV

Celia was still abed when Robert was called away to court, presumably about the poisoning. The entire world seemed to be hectic as servants rushed about her room, trying to look for things and moving things around. She did not have the energy to fight them and so she didn’t. 

Lysa and Alayna were at her side, acting as though nothing was wrong and so she trusted in that. 

Celia tired and fell asleep, her head resting against her sister’s lap as a Riverland lullaby washed over her and left her to dream. 

—

Celia was moved to the queen’s chambers to her confusion. She couldn’t understand why she was being moved and worried when no one was able to explain it to her. 

However, the ease she felt when Robert came to her bed and slipped in next to her was overwhelming. 

Falling asleep with Robert’s arms wrapped around her was the greatest thrill that Celia had ever known. 

—

“The poison is being flushed from your system, your grace,” the maester said gently. 

She felt so hot and heavy as a cold, wet cloth was placed on her brow. “Will I be well?” she asked weakly. 

“The gods have too much planned for you, my queen. They shall not take you yet.”

—

When the fever broke, it was as though Celia could finally breathe again. And there was nothing she wanted more than to be in her husband’s arms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter today. Sorry. A lot will happen next week!


	50. Robert XXV

Robert held Celia tightly. 

The fever had only just broken and prior to that, it felt as though he couldn’t breathe. Maester Caleotte has explained that it was the last of the poison getting out of her system. That it would get worse before it got better. But, even so, when Celia had begun to moan in pain at the fever, as the fire seemed to lick at her skin, Robert had worried. He had never prayed so fervently until that moment. He begged all the gods, old and new, that his daughter not be left without a mother, that he not be left without a wife. 

He did not think he would be able to handle losing Celia. He would never remarry if he lost her, never even entertain the thought. 

But now, she was well, her breathing was normal and the fever was broken. 

Robert held her tenderly in his arms and pressed kisses to her brow. 

He was not looking at her face but he knew his wife was smiling. Her hand tentatively touched his cheek, her fingers against his beard and her nails grazing across his skin. 

“I’m alright, Robert,” she said tenderly. “I’m alright.”

He kissed her sweetly then and he felt Celia’s thumb wipe away the tears that had begun to slide down his cheeks as he could not stop himself out of pure and unadulterated happiness. 

—

Robert went down to the black cells and looked at the disgraced maester huddled into a corner. 

This man had been serving since King Aegon V. He had served the crown for so very long and this is where it has led to. 

Robert cursed himself for keeping the maester that had served the Targaryens for so long. The maester who had watched the seed of madness grow, the maester who had not looked after Princess Elia and her children. He should have requested a new maester. He should have started his rule anew. He should not have kept any of the Mad King’s main court. 

“Have mercy, your grace,” the old man begged, seemingly now aware of his presence. 

“My wife lives,” Robert said darkly. “No thanks to you. My wife and child are safe and you shall never endanger any child or woman again. Even though your plan was foiled, once you are found guilty, I shall grant you no leniency. I went to war for my head and the dishonor given to my betrothed. I dare you to imagine what I shall do to the one who attempts to kill my wife and mother of my children.”

“Have mercy, your grace,” Pycelle begged. “Please!”

Robert did not reply, instead, he turned away from the cell and left them, letting the man continue to beg, for Robert would not hear it. The maester could give him no excuse that would earn his leniency. 

Nothing. 

—

Robert kissed Celia tenderly at the base of her neck. He was behind her, holding her and their unborn child carefully. 

She moaned softly, her head calling back atop his as his fingers danced across her skin, across her body. 

She was getting stronger by the hour, by the day. He had put off the trial so that they might gain more evidence, but also so that Celia was well enough to sit by his side as they sentenced the man who tried to kill her. 

“Robert,” the word came with a sharp intake of breath as his fingers sank into her. She moaned as he put his knee between her legs to open her just a little more. 

“Shhh,” he whispered as Celia lifted her hand and fisted at his hair. “Does it feel good?”

She nodded and Robert knew she was biting her lip. “I wish you would be inside me,” she painted as he began to move his fingers as he would have if he were atop her. 

“Don’t want to hurt the baby,” he answered, his voice husky with need. Gods, we wished to be inside her, slinging into her as she clenched around his cock. He was already hard as a rock and rubbing himself behind her like a dog in heat. 

“Mm…” it was a grumble mixed with a moan and Robert chuckled. 

“Besides, you’re not strong enough and if I was inside you now, I would lose it.”

She shuddered around him, clenching at his fingers and he knew that he had hit the right spot. “Oh, Robert.”

He continued to kiss her neck as he made his strokes deeper and longer, making sure to hit the same spot over and over and over again. She yanked at his hair and Robert growled into her skin. 

“That’s it, Celia,” he whispered hoarsely. “That’s it.”

“Robert,” she cried out. “Robert!”

She came beautifully and Robert felt embarrassed that he spilled behind her, which made her giggle through her release. Robert kissed her quickly before getting up to claim a washcloth to clean them both, mainly her. He wrapped her in his robes and picked her up. 

“I’m fine, Robert,” she said, looking up at him with clear blue eyes. 

“I know, but you deserve to sleep in a clean bed.”

“I don’t wish to disturb the servants sleeping.”

“Which is why I’ve been practicing my bed making skills.”

His wife began to laugh as he set her down on the couch. “Truly?”

“Yes,” he replied. “To be fair I did so in the Kingsguard barracks. They found it quite amusing.”

Celia smiled at him as he went to work making their bed properly again so that it was clean. He returned to her to pick her up and she laughed. “My hero.”

Robert beamed and kissed her quick as he laid her down and wrapped her in his arms before pulling the covers around them. 

He stayed awake until he could hear her breathing even out. Only then did he allow himself to drift off into a deep and blissful sleep. 

—

He had a proper throne made for Celia to sit by his side. She wore Tully blue and a crown that looked like stag antlers rested on her head, her red hair up in a decorative braid. She looked every inch the queen and he led her to her throne. 

The court bowed and curtsied, telling the queen that she had been in their prayers and that the gods had blessed her health and brought her good fortune. 

Robert kissed his wife’s hand and let her sit. Celia rested her hand upon her swollen belly before Robert turned to the court. “Bring out the accused.”

Maester Pycelle was brought out in chains, and not the ones given to him by the Citadel. He looked ragged and appeared to have aged a decade since his imprisonment. But Robert didn’t care. He felt no compassion for any who would poison his wife. 

“You stand accused of attempted murder of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter of the head of House Tully, the good sister of the heads of House Stark and Arryn, current matriarch of House Baratheon, and friend of House Martell. You stand accused of poisoning the pregnant queen and putting herself and the possible heir of the Baratheon throne in jeopardy. How do you find these charges?”

“Guilty, your grace.”

A whisper came across the court as the admission echoed through the throne room. Robert held up his hand and silenced them all. 

“You have desecrated your vows, you have gone against them and harmed the queen and who knows how many others. For her justice and theirs, you shall be sentenced to execution at dawn.”

“Wait, your grace!” Pycelle said, falling to his knees. “I am not the only one who carried out this plot.”

Robert glared at him. He would promise nothing in exchange for this information. But perhaps this would ease the old man’s soul. “Who?”

“Tywin Lannister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Justice!


	51. Celia XXVI

Celia gasped at the accusation. 

She did not care for Tywin Lannister. She did not care for his superiority or his politics. She did not care for the man at all, but she was shocked that he was the one who assisted in the plot to poison her. 

It did not seem to be a thought that would cross his mind. To use poison. She had no doubt that he had the motives and ability to carry out the murder of innocents. The deaths of Elia and her children were proof enough, but she had not thought that he would lower himself to use poison, something that many claimed women prefered. Celia felt there was more to this than met the eye. 

Robert squeezed her hand gently and, for a moment, Celia had forgotten that her husband held her hand, it was so natural. 

“What proof do you have of such accusations,” Robert said firmly. “Accusing the head of one of the great houses of Westeros is a grievous thing.”

Celia knew that her husband could not act rashly. They needed to think of the Westerlands, especially considering Cersei and her son. 

“I have correspondence made between the two of us as well as letters exchanged between myself and Lady Cersei Lannister.”

A gasp and whispers echoed about the great hall and Robert’s grip tightened upon her hand. “You blame Lady Cersei as well?”

“Yes, your grace. It is a Lannister plot to put their own on the throne beside you.”

“We shall end the hearing at this time, Robert called. The knights shall father the supposed evidence and ready Lady Cersei for a trial in one week’s time as well as the arrest of Lord Tywin Lannister so that he might answer to these accusations himself.”

Robert dismissed the court and turned to Celia quickly. “Are you alright, my love?”

Celia nodded. “It’s just… it is simply a shock.”

Her husband kissed the back of her hand. “I shall give you justice, my love,” he said. “I swear it.”

—

Sansa slept between them that night. 

More accurately, she slept on top of her father’s chest, snuggled against him with her thumb in her mouth. 

Celia smiled as she looked down at her husband and their daughter. They were precious and so very at peace. 

She did not have to say goodbye to them. 

She did not have to wonder any longer about when she might be forced to leave them. 

She would be able to watch Sansa grow up and fall in love one day. She would watch her daughter grow into the princess that songs would be written about. She would watch her daughter get married one day. Watch her daughter have children. 

She would be there for the child growing in her belly too and any other children the gods blessed her with thereafter. 

She would grow old with Robert. She would get to spend every waking moment with him and spend all her sleeping hours wrapped in his arms. 

The relief of that knowledge swept over her as she began to cry. 

“I would hold you now if I did not know that our princess would throw a fit if I moved,” her husband said gently. 

Celia kissed his cheek and snuggled closer to his side as her head rested on his outstretched arm. “I love you,” she said softly. 

“I love you too.”

—

Celia stood next to her husband as the Dornish delegation approached the entrance to the Red Keep. They were bringing the Targaryen princess, who was formally granted the title of Lady Targaryen with her brother taking the title of Lord as well. 

Celia was nervous to meet the little girl. She wondered if she would see any of Queen Rhaella in the girl or if she would see King Aerys. 

Regardless, she was determined to take care of this child and make a peaceful transition from the reign of dragons to that of the stags. 

She placed a hand over her belly. If the child she carried was a boy, then he and the Targaryen girl, Daenerys, would marry and give the loyalists that still found themselves in Westeros even less reason to go against them. 

“I am happy to see that you are well, my queen,” Oberyn said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. 

“Give your brother out immense thanks for sending his maester,” Robert said from beside her. 

“It was the right thing to do.” The Dornish prince bowed his head. “May I introduce you to Lady Daenerys Targaryen.”

He motioned towards a young woman who held a small child in her arms. The little girl was beautiful with silvery hair and violet eyes. A true Targaryen to be sure. The girl looked towards Celia and Robert when she heard Oberyn say her name and then quickly hid her face in her nursemaid’s hair. 

Celia smiled and approached the woman who was about to curtsy, but Celia held up her hand to stop the woman. “Hello, my lady,” she said gently. “My name is Celia, I have been very excited to meet you.” The little girl peeked out from the maid’s neck. “Your name is Daenerys, correct?” The girl nodded. “I knew your mother, sweet girl, and I believe you look so very much like her. Shall I show you a portrait of her?”

“Mama?” the little girl asked, turning her full attention to Celia. 

“That’s right,” she held out her arms to the child. She was not so heavily pregnant yet that she couldn’t carry the girl. “Shall I show you?”

Daenerys nodded and was transferred to Celia’s arms. She walked back into the keep to show the girl the portrait of the mother she never knew. 

—

Tywin Lannister and his daughter were brought before the court. 

The evidence found against them was more than even Celia imagined. The letters, the servants who had been a part of the plots, the inhumanity of those who thirst for power… Celia could not understand it. 

“The three of you have been found guilty of attempted murder of the queen,” Robert said, his voice booming. “And though I am the king and by law it was me who was wronged and it is my right to seek justice, I ask that my wife and queen be the one to give the punishments for it was her body that was violated and it was her life as well as our unborn child’s that was put at risk.”

Celia stood from her throne, her hand protectively over her belly, dressed in Baratheon yellow and a small crown of wooden antlers upon her braided hair. 

“To Maester Pycelle, for your actions you shall be stripped of your chains, a punishment agreed upon by the Citadel. You shall then be sent to the Sorrows where you shall spend the rest of your days treating the Stone Men. May you find salvation in the treatment of others from which you will earn no reward.”

The maester bowed his head, his expression ashen. 

“Lady Cersei, for your crimes, you shall be sent to train with the Silent Sisters you wished to deliver me to the Stranger, then you shall be sent to act as his wife and hand maid and learn to attend to those who have been welcomed into death as you attempted to usher me.”

Cersei was red with rage. “And my son?” she demanded. 

“He shall be raised in the Eyrie as the king once was and shall marry a girl of appropriate standing. He will not, however, inherit the Rock.”

Celia turned her gaze towards Lord Tywin, who was serious and anger boiled beneath the surface. He did not like losing, that was certain. 

“Lord Tywin, for your actions, your name shall be scrubbed from the history books. Any victories or legislation that you took part in shall have no mention of you from this day forth. Your name shall disappear and in years to come, none shall remember or know you. You shall be exiled to an island of Dorne under the eye of House Martell. And you shall not be allowed back into the heart of Westeros again.”

Celia sat back down on her throne and Robert took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think of the punishments?


	52. Robert XXVI

Celia stood upon the port of King’s Landing beside him as they watched the three guilty parties embark on their separate journeys. He held his wife’s hand as they departed. 

Lady Cersei had put up the most resistance. Lord Tywin was at least attempting to have a vague amount of decorum about him. Maester Pycelle had refused to speak again, refusing to give into any more of his guilt. 

“Do you think I picked the right punishment for them?” Celia asked him quietly as the crowd watched their ships sail away. “Do you think it was severe enough?”

“You did what was best to make sure the Westerlands did not rebel until we find a proper head house for that kingdom.” Robert kissed her knuckles. “It was a perfect punishment for the crimes that they have committed. What’s important now is you, my queen.” He turned to face Celia completely and cradled her rounding belly in his hands. “Are you feeling well, has this been too much for you!”

Celia touched her face in her hands and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “I’m fine now, my love. Merely glad that this trial is over and we might have peace.”

“And to have that peace,” he said with a gentle chuckle. “I must insist that you rest, my queen.”

“Only if you rest with me for a little while, my king.”

Robert smiled at her. “I can think of no greater honor.”

—

Robert kissed his wife’s hand as she sat down on her throne. They were before the entire court and Stannis stood at the base of the throne, dressed in their house colors, a circlet of gold upon his brow to indicate his position as Prince of Dragonstone. 

He nodded to his brother as he looked at the crowd below. He and his council had already discussed the proceedings for the day. 

“My people,” he said, looking out amongst them. “In recent times we are often reminded of the fragility of life especially the life of those who are crowned. I thank all the gods that my wife and our future child are still with us. However, I know that there are those who would still wish to undermine my reign. As you all know, my brother is considered my heir until a son is born. I have gathered you all here today to announce that I have made it official that my daughter will be my official heir until a son is born. Should I die before then, my wife shall take the title of queen mother and our eldest daughter, Sansa, shall take the title of queen of the Seven Kingdoms with my brother taking the title of Defender of the Throne.”

The people looked up at him in shock, but there seemed to be some acceptance. 

“This is in case of a worst case scenario, but I want you all to know that the throne is secure and there are none who shall destabilize the peace we have fought for for so long and hard.” Celia stood and put her hand in his. “As your king I will try and keep the peace you and yours have spilled blood for. I swear it as your king.”

—

Robert laid in bed with his wife as she curled into him, her hand upon his chest and his own upon her belly. Their child was kicking furiously, which meant that Celia could not sleep. 

“It’s a boy,” she said softly. 

“And what makes you think that?” he asked, kissing the top of her head. 

“He is too rambunctious to be anything other than your son.”

Robert grinned, pressing his nose into her hair and breathing deeply. “Aye, that is a good indication. But perhaps it is a girl who will be as I am.”

“Gods help any man then who refuses her advances.”

He chuckled and rubbed his hand along her stomach, the kicks dying down just a little bit. “But she will have you to help temper her anger.”

“And she will have you to help her ease it into better things.”

“If I am allowed to teach her how to fight, but I don’t know how the people would handle a princess who wields a sword.”

“I want our daughters to be protected, even when no one is there to protect them.”

He kissed her sweetly again. “Then they shall be protected.”

—

It was sprawling, the dream. 

He saw Celia, growing steadily older alongside him. Children, so many children. 

Laughter echoing across the Red Keep like music. 

It was beautiful. 


	53. Celia XXVII

News came to King’s Landing that Tywin Lannister had been charged with attempting to escape custody and was promptly sentenced to death after threatening the life of Prince Doran’s daughter, Arianne. 

While Celia felt no sadness at the man’s death, she gave Jaime her condolences nonetheless. 

“I do not need your sorry, your grace,” Jaime said gently. “I know you had little care for him.”

“Even so, he was your father. You are too good a person to feel nothing upon the news.”

“My father was not a good man,” Jaime replied. “He was not a good father either. You need not apologize. It… it barely feels like a loss.”

Celia took her friend’s hand in hers. “Tell Alayna that you and her should have a day to yourselves. I know you say you do not feel anything, but I know that, even if it is the barest amount, you do. Go and have a quiet moment to yourself with someone you care for. I shall not stop you.”

Jaime lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckle. “Thank you, your grace.”

—

Celia awoke to her stomach fluttering slightly. It wasn’t a bad cramp, but it was a cramp. A phantom contraction, Alayna had spoken to her of them. 

Robert had already gotten up and ready for the day. She had been sleeping in more and did not wish to keep him from his duties. 

Celia called for a warm bath to be set for her so that she could be clean and fresh for the day before beginning her waning duties. Robert prefered her not to sit down for too long or to move for too long. 

She was grateful, honestly. Perhaps she should be annoyed at her husband telling her to do this, but she felt relieved at having the excuse. 

Today wasn’t going to be a terribly busy day, but they were going to grant Jaime leave from the Kingsguard and handle the Lannister situation once and for all. 

She did not want to miss it. 

—

Celia sat on her throne, Robert insisting she sit fit the ceremony. She indulged him but the kicking was getting rather pronounced. 

Robert stood before the court, dressed in his finest, black and yellow gold making him look as though he had come from some page or melody. The crown upon his head was beautiful and Celia wore one that matched. Robert had presented her with a new crown, one that mixed both of their houses that would be worn by all the queens after her as a reminder of the mother of the Baratheon dynasty. 

“As many of you know,” Robert began. “The Old Lion has been stripped of his position and his titles. With him gone, there needs to be someone who will lead the Westerlands, someone whom I can trust, someone I know will not be the same lion that would call for rain on any who disagree with him.” Robert motioned for Jaime to step forward. “Jaime Lannister, you have served my house well, your queen well, and the kingdom well. Such loyalty should not be asked to be confined within the archaic confines of a celibate kingsguard. From this moment forward, the rules of the Kingsguard shall change, but you, Ser Jaime Lannister, shall be released from your vows regardless to take your place as the Lord of Casterly Rock. However, you shall not be a Lannister anymore, for that name shall end. From now on, you are Ser Jaime Stafford. No longer shall you be a golden lion, but silver upon a blue field. I grant to you, as well, the words  _ we are loyal.  _ You shall be married first here in the Great Sept of Baelor to Lady Alayna and then cement your vows before the vassal lords of the Westerlands.”

Jaime got on his knee. “You honor me with your good will, your grace.”

“From thence forth, you shall be granted the title of Oathkeeper, for you have put your people before all else and I ask the gods that you be remembered king after we are all gone.”

Celia smiled at her husband. This was the true beginning of his reign. 

—

Celia was making her way to the nursery when another cramp trembled through her body. 

“Ce?” Lysa was at her side in a moment. 

“It’s too early,” Celia whispered as she felt water begin to dribble down her leg. 

Her sister’s face paled, but she pressed a kiss to Celia’s cheek. “Alright, let’s get you to your room and fetch the maester,” she said. “Just breathe with me, sweet sister. It’s going to be okay. The babe just wants to meet you and the king a little more quickly than expected.”

Celia groaned. “This is Robert’s child.”

Lysa snickered as she helped Celia move. “Stubborn and willful,” she said. “Those should be your house’s words.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s two official chapters left and then there’s an epilogue that goes over the children 🥰 enjoy!


	54. Robert XXVII

Robert was pouring over the books. More of Celia’s schools had opened and they were doing remarkably well. They had begun to spread more throughout the seven kingdoms and the poverty rate was also lowering with men and women being allowed to work without worrying about their children being left alone in the streets. 

He wished he had been more involved in its creation, more because it would have meant more time spent with his wife rather than accepting any praise that Celia had gained during her time creating the plans. 

His fingers traced along his wife’s handwriting, a smile playing on his lips. 

“Robert.” Jon entered the study, his face red from running. 

The king stood quickly. “What is it?”

“The queen,” he said. “She had gone into labor.”

Robert was out the door in an instant, making his way to his wife, his heart thundering in his chest. 

—

Robert had little care for decorum when he swung the door to his wife’s private chambers wide open. There were no screams, however, simply a sight that made his heart squeeze in his chest. 

Celia had their babe to her breast, holding them, ignoring his entrance, and cooing softly to the bundle in her arms as though the child were the most lovely sight in the world. 

“A son, your grace,” Lysa said proudly. His good sister was beaming happily as she kissed Celia’s temple and motioned for everyone to give the parents a moment of privacy. 

Robert crawled carefully into the bed next to his wife and looked down at his sweet child. His son. A bout with dark curly hair and blue eyes and a nose and lips so very much Celia. 

“A boy, Robert,” Celia said softly, not taking her eyes off him. 

Robert put his arms carefully around her and cradled his arm under hers so that they might both hold him. 

“Ours, my love,” he said. “Our son.”

—

“Have you decided on a name yet?” Jaime asked as they sat outside the door where the women were sleeping peacefully with the children. 

“Duncan,” Robert replied. 

“A good Baratheon name,” he said with a nod. 

“Celia thought so. I had thought perhaps on the name Hoster, to get back in my good father’s good graces, but I felt as though he would dislike me more for it.”

Jaime chuckled. “Aye, I think he wouldn’t care for it at all.” The knight pat Robert on the back. “You have done well, Robert.”

He smiled. He hadn’t truly, he had made so many mistakes, but he would continue to make up for them as long as Celia would allow it. 

—

Robert ordered for the food stores and the graineroes to be opened. Every family in King’s Landing would receive three pounds of wheat in celebration of Duncan’s birth. 

The capital sang with praise for their new prince and their queen. Robert was happy to sing along with them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One official chapter left and then an epilogue. And it’s then that you will find out why the fic is called beautiful ghosts 🥰


	55. Celia XXVIII

Duncan was beautiful. He had his father’s hair and eyes, but there was something rather Tully-like in his features. 

Her precious son was suckling on her breast as she smiled down at him, tracing his finger along his curls. 

“You will be a great king one day,” she told him gently. “You and Daenerys will be great friends one day when you are able to properly play together and the two of you will be raised to be the very best father and mother to your people. You will be very happy and very content for you will become king long past the time you are ready for I am certain your father and I shall love forever if we wish to so that we might not ever have to let either you or your sister go.”

Duncan released her breast and began to yawn. Celia shifted him so that he was resting against her chest and began to pat his back gently until he burped. This gave her son an even more content expression and Celia pressed her lips to his brow. 

“I love you, my little stag,” she whispered softly. 

—

Sansa and Mya had climbed onto the bed next to Celia as they leaned against her and looked at their baby brother. 

“Small, mama,” Sansa said, poking her brother’s cheeks. 

Duncan’s nose wrinkled and Celia reprimanded her daughter lightly telling her not to poke the baby. 

“You were small too,” Mya said, her cheek edging against Celia’s shoulder and striking Duncan’s hair. “He looks like me.”

“Mhm,” Celia said with a smile. “He looks like your father.”

“Won’t see him,” Mya said glumly. 

“You’ll see him occasionally,” Celia assured her. “You are to go with your mother and Ser Jaime to Casterly Rock. And we shall visit you sometimes and you shall visit us.”

“Duncan will be big.”

“He will be a little bigger next time you see him, but perhaps you shall have another brother or sister with you when he is.”

Mya slid her arm around Celia’s stomach and cuddled a little closer. “Miss you.”

“Oh, sweetling, I shall miss you too.”

—

Celia hugged Alayna tightly. “I shall miss you so much.”

“I shall write to you as often as I can,” her friend said, pulling away so that they might look at one another. “I know I have a lot to learn when it comes to being the lady of a keep despite all the small lessons you have already given me.”

Celia smiled. “I believe you shall do just fine.” She glanced at her one time knight. “And Jaime shall make sure you do not mess up too badly.”

“You have very little faith in me, your grace,” Jaime said after helping Mya into the carriage. 

“I have complete faith in you, good ser,” she said. “You two will simply be unable to keep your hands to yourselves. Do not make your stewards do everything.”

Jaime chuckled. “As my queen commands.”

Celia smiled and hugged him too. “Take care of them,” she whispered. 

“With my life.”

—

Celia curled into Robert, her leg hitched around his hip and her hand resting over his heart. 

“Are you happy, my love?” he asked gently, his lips against her skin as she smiled into his shoulder. 

“The happiest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is going to be LONG. 
> 
> I was also informed that someone on Wattpad has nearly copied the exact dialogue for some previous chapters (I believe it is 41 and 42). It’s for a completely separate fandom, but yes. It’s rather annoying that this has happened, yet again. From what I can tell the rest of their story is rather different, but it’s just so annoying. I don’t have a Wattpad so I don’t catch these things. It’s why I don’t write original fiction on here. I do this for fun and for my own entertainment as well as getting some writing practice in, but having someone copy my writing and dialogue is just not fun at all.


	56. Epilogue

Jenny watched as her eldest sister married their cousin Jon Stark in the Sept of Baelor on the first day of spring. 

Her sister was beautiful in Baratheon black and yellow. She and their mother had worked hours on the dress, to make it perfect for the first child of the Baratheon dynasty to get married. 

Jenny held onto her mother’s arm as they watched her father and sister walk down the aisle towards Jon, every inch a princess. 

Jon was a good man and all of Jenny’s siblings had made certain that he was right for their sister, even after their parents and aunt and uncle had agreed to the marriage. Sansa was the eldest of all of them and she was secretly everyone’s favorite. They wanted her to get the best man possible, so when they met Jon, outside of their sister’s letters, they had been skeptical that their brooding cousin would be worthy of their sister. But the way he smiled at her, the lazy smile that spread across his lips so naturally whenever he was around Jenny’s sister made it nearly impossible to deny that the two were made for one another. 

Jenny leaned her head against her mother’s hip as her mother’s fingers threaded through her loose hair. 

“I love you, papa,” Sansa whispered softly. 

Her father was crying when he kissed Sansa’s cheek and handed her to Jon. Sansa paused and kissed their father’s cheek before taking Jon’s hand and joining the Septon at the altar. 

Jenny’s father walked to her and her mother. Her mother’s laugh was soft and gentle as she kissed him tenderly on the cheek as well. Jenny’s father lifted her into his arms and held her there for the rest of the ceremony. 

Jenny held onto him around his neck, knowing he needed a big hug so he wouldn’t cry anymore than he already had. 

—

She danced on her father’s feet during the wedding feast. That had made him smile, smile wide and happily as he said that she would always be his baby. 

—

Jenny bounced on her heels as her biggest sister, Mya, was knighted by Ser Uncle Jaime. 

It had taken Jenny a long time to understand why Mya was her sister but Aunt Alayna was her mother instead of Jenny’s mother being her mother. 

She had been rather mad at her father when she found out, but after her mother slowly explaining things and her father looking really sad, Jenny hesitantly forgave him until she forgave him completely. 

“Arise Ser Mya Baratheon.”

However, it was Mya’s day now. She was the first female knight in all the Seven Kingdoms. 

Her dark hair was cropped short and her blue eyes were shining as she stood tall and proud, after Ser Uncle had given her her vows and she had received them. 

Father was beaming with pride as Mya bowed her head to him respectfully. 

Mother clapped proudly by Jennya’s side as everyone else in the family did as well. 

Mya was grinning broadly, as their father proclaimed that women would be allowed to squire if they wish to. It was an unheard of precedent, but one that was met with no argument. 

Jenny watched as Mya glanced to the side of a woman dressed in blue armor, her blonde hair bright in the sunlight. Lady Brienne of Tarth would be next in the knighting. Jenny saw Mya wink at the woman, whose cheeks turned bright pink, causing Mya to laugh happily. 

—

Mya danced with everyone at the celebratory feast. She had spun Jenny around as though she were a top and the two giggled together when they got dizzy. Jenny hugged her sister tightly and told her to be happy. 

—

Duncan’s wedding was much larger than Sansa’s. Of course it would be. He was the crown prince and was marrying Dany, the last princess of a subdued house. 

Dany wore a cloak of red as she was walked down the aisle by her brother Prince Viserys of Sunspear. Both of them were beautiful in their red and orange attire. Dany looked like the Maiden on her way to marry the Warrior. 

Duncan stood proud and strong although Jenny knew that her eldest brother was a bundle of nerves. He had dragged all of them into his room the night before to go over his vows, as though the septon would not simply ask him to repeat after himself, and his speech for the feast, which wasn’t even necessary. 

“I want everything to be perfect,” he had said, fumbling through his notes as they all assured him that Dany would love him even if he fumbled with some of the vows or forgot to say one sentence from his speech. 

Jenny stood next to her mother, now to her shoulder. Her mother had tears in her eyes as Jenny’s father kissed her cheek and rubbed her back tenderly. 

When Dany was presented to Duncan, his nerves began to show as his cheeks turned bright red. Dany smiled at him and took his hands in hers, kissing his cheek tenderly before smiling back at her brother and going to the Septon. 

It was beautiful, like a song. 

Jenny wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and smiled as Dany truly became her sister. 

—

Duncan danced with Jenny as though she were a lady of a proper age. Even so, the two of them danced like they had when they were small children. The two grinned at each other when they parted and Jenny graciously handed her big brother to his wife. 

—

Jenny was surprised that there even was a wedding for Gendry. 

She was half expecting that their cousin Arya Arryn would simply elope to Essos with Gendry so they wouldn’t have to deal with all the antics that came with the wedding. 

However, Jenny’s parents were rather firm in making sure that neither of the two were without a chaperone each before their betrothal and wedding was announced. 

Arya grumbled nearly the entire time, but Gendry loved their parents too much to upset them, especially their mother. 

Aunt Lysa grumbled that her daughter needed to behave more properly, if not for the sake of appearances for the sake of her father. 

“You are his only daughter, dearest,” she had said. “Let him walk you to the Septon while he still can.”

That got Arya to bear with the wedding preparations a little more gracefully. Uncle Jon was rather old and he was getting weaker by the year. Even so, he seemed so overjoyed at Arya getting married that no one truly wished to take the moment away from him. 

The wedding was small and just perfect for Arya. Even though Gendry was the second prince and should have been celebrated as such, a small wedding was the compromise made so Arya didn’t practically climb up the wall in protest. 

It was beautiful and simple and everyone was in tears with how beautiful the vows were. Once they were presented as husband and wife, Arya practically glowed with happiness. 

It was beautiful. Arya even danced for the entire night, even though she did not much care for dancing. She shared three dances with her father and four with Gendry. 

It was perhaps the happiest night in the Red Keep. 

—

Jenny danced with Gendry, kissing his cheek and laughing when he nervously got whisked away by Arya. 

—

News arrived that Joffrey had earned his first link upon his maester’s chain. 

Jenny had first learned of Joffrey’s almost relation to her when she was thirteen. Although he was not her brother in the same way that Mya was her sister, she still thought of him as so. 

Everyone was rather surprised when he decided to journey to Old Town and train in the Citadel. 

“I want to heal whereas my mother hurt,” he had said simply when Jenny’s father told him that he need not feel as though he had to denounce himself from having a wife or children. 

Jenny’s mother helped fund for some of his upkeep and Joffrey focused on the art of healing, in hopes that he might be able to share and spread that knowledge throughout the Seven Kingdoms. 

Jenny’s father wrote to him often. Even if Joffrey was not his son, he still cared about the boy’s future and Jenny could only wish him well and hoped that he would find meaning wherever life brought him.

—

Jenny and her family traveled for Rhaella’s wedding. 

Rhaella was three years older than Jenny and every inch like their mother, save for the strong Baratheon cheekbones. However, she was every inch a princess when she stood beside her new husband Prince Trystane Martell. 

They were a beautiful pair. So very very beautiful. 

Jenny grinned ear to ear as her sister and her new good brother giggled together as they whispered to one another during the wedding feast. 

Rhaella was so very pleased and she danced the entire night with her new husband, even though their father and brothers attempted to steal at least one dance. She was so incandescently happy that no one could feel truly horrible about not being able to dance with her. Jenny’s nieces and nephews by her oldest siblings raced around the gardens, happy to explore their surroundings as everyone kept a partial eye on them. 

Jenny watched as her parents danced in the firelight, swaying to the strings of the music as though they were the only ones in the entire world for a brief moment. She smiled, hoping she found a love like that one day. 

—

Jenny danced with Maric Seaworth at the feast. 

He was handsome and kind and Celia smiled up at him when he asked her to dance for a second, third, and fourth time. 

She couldn’t be happier. 

—

The next wedding was Beatrice’s. She married Arthur Woodville in the middle of summer, her red hair tied in an elaborate broad suitable for the West. 

Arthur looked gallant in his armor as he kissed Beatrice’s knuckles as the Septon spoke of their marriage. 

Jenny smiled at her sister’s happiness, clutching the arm of Maric Seaworth. He was her betrothed but they were to wait another year before they married because her Dany was to give birth soon and her good sister and her parents did not wish to overshadow her marriage with a possible heir for her brother. 

Maric kissed the top of her head as Beatrice and Arthur exchanged vows, their eyes full of love and devotion that matched their parents. 

Jenny smiled and leaned into Maric’s side and smiled, happy for her sister and her happiness. 

—

Jenny rested her head against Maric’s chest as they danced to the music. Their wedding had been perfect. 

Her father had walked her to her husband and her brothers and good brothers had all danced with her. Even Joffrey had been given leave from the Citadel to come for the wedding. He danced with her as well. Her father had danced as well, twirling her around, his laughter in echoing across the stones as he kissed her cheek and told her how proud he was of her. But now she danced with her husband. 

He kissed her temple as they swayed. Jenny could see her family all dancing as well. It was beautiful. Utterly beautiful. 

—

“Grandmother?”

“Hm?” Jenny glanced up at her grandson. He was the youngest of her grandchildren, being twenty-five. “Yes, sweetling?”

“Father wished to know if you wanted to dance.”

“Oh,” Jenny said. She had gotten lost in the memories. She had been in so many weddings. 

Her eldest son, Davos, was coming towards her. He looked so much like his father that it made her heart ache. She felt so old looking at him. She was only ninety-five, but she felt so sour when she was around her grandchildren and her grand nieces and nephews. 

They all treated her with the utmost respect, she was, after all, the last of her siblings, the last of her generation of the Baratheon dynasty. 

Davos took her wrinkled hand in his and kissed it gently. “Are you feeling well, Mother.”

“The best, dearest,” she answered. “Lost in the memories, I suppose. So many weddings. So many happy memories.”

Davos smiled at her as he led her out onto the dance floor. They swayed gently to the music and Jenny smiled. 

If she closed her eyes, she was a young girl again, dancing on her daughter’s feet, surrounded by the beautiful ghosts of her childhood. And when she opened them again, she was surrounded by the happiness that had been born from it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates every Tuesday and Thursday


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